The Darkest Plague
by kjmisme
Summary: Fiona McFey was doing great 'till Hunters stole her sister. When the Lords return her though, Umhala and Fiona wish to grant the warriors with a boon they can not refuse.  A/N: Rating is at M for language and future scenes.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, so like, I'm in love with my home town girl, Gena Showalter, and her Lords of the Underworld series. Her characters are so, so, what's the word? Not-Twilight's-2d-bull-shit, maybe? Yeah, I like that description. I should make that into a stamp. ^_^

Anyway, time for the formalities. I do not own (though I wish I did) any rights to the names and/or locations associated with Gena Showalter's Lords of the Underworld. I am just writing this for the Hel of it. I do not expect any compensation for the hours of my life I spent drooling over this. (That's it, right?) Oh right…I found all the non-English words at Lexilogos' web site under their Scottish Gaelic section. They have a ton of different language dictionaries. You should check them out…even if just to play around and/or have fun with words. ^_^ I also used English Irish Dictionary. (Take out the spaces and add a dot com to the end and it should take you there.) I like theirs better but, I figured I'd give you both.

Side note: this takes place before, during, and after The Darkest Whisper. (Just in case you get lost on where we are.)

So, yeah. Let's get this party started.

* * *

Fiona stood in the middle of an almost empty airport, waiting to see her sister walk through the gates. It had been two years since she last laid eyes upon her older sister, Umhala. Two years since she brushed out Umhala's fine golden locks, envied her fields of lush green eyes and her finely bronzed skin.

Umhala had gone to see their grandmother in Scotland, to get some of her famous spider silk threads. Fiona and Umhala had the insane idea to see if they could reintroduce the lost art of spider weaving. They thought, _the orients make fine silks with their worms, but we could spin spider thread into even finer silks_. They had called their grandmother, Habetrot, the goddess of spinning, that night to see if she still had any of the silky threads. She had. So Umhala packed up and got a plane ticket to go visit for a bit. She was only supposed to be there for a three days. Yet, when those three days were up, and Umhala was nowhere to be seen, Fiona became worried. She had to keep reminding herself that her sister was with their grandmother and that nothing could have gone wrong. A few days passed before she picked up the phone and called her grandmother.

"Hóigh seanmháthair," Fiona greeted trying to hide the panic in her voice.

"Seanmháthair?" Habetrot asked inquisitively. "You never call me that any more. It's always grandmother, grandma, or grandmum. What do you want this time?"

"Nothing," Fiona said shaking her head. "I was just wondering if you'd seen Umhala?" Fiona asked not wanting to worry the old Fae goddess unless the need arose.

"Not since I took her to the airport. Isn't she with you?" Habetrot asked, her voice thick with her native tongue.

"No," Fiona tried not to break down in hysterics. "I haven't seen her since she left. This isn't like her," her thin ice of self preservation cracking. "She usually calls in between flights, but I thought she might be roaming and couldn't get a signal. Then when her flight got here and she wasn't here, I thought she might have gotten on a later one. When she wasn't there, I thought she might have found a lad to keep her bed. But still she would've called." Fiona speed through, slipping from her recently acquired Southern Midwest accent back to her grandmother's tongue.

"Calm child, there has to be a reason she hasn't…"

"Nay, there is no reason! She always calls!" Fiona had interrupted. "What if something bad happened to her? What if she's all alone? What if,"

"What if she is fine?" Habetrot interrupted. "There are too many 'what ifs' to consider. Have you tried to call her?"

"Yes," Fiona said her voice thick with unshed tears for her sister's well being. "Religiously. But it keeps taking me to her voice mail."

"The batteries could have run dry." Normally Fiona would have laughed at her grandmother's ability to use technological terms, but she was too worried and just snorted.

That was her grandmother, the optimist. While Fiona could see the strange, wrong, weird, and all the shadows in a room, her grandmother could only see the lights. It was like that for a full month. Fiona would call her grandmother every day to see if Umhala had been spotted.

Over the next month's passing and still Umhala had not phoned in, Habetrot became worried as well. She held a meeting with the High King, Gwynn Ap Nudd, to see if he would aid in finding her granddaughter. He dispatched some of his men to search for her, but after a year, they still could found no sign of her. The men said it was like she just vanished off the face of the planet. Not even the water mirrors could pinpoint her location. Every time they tried, something blocked them.

All traces of hope lost with the lack of her other half, Fiona flew to Scotland to attend Umhala's funeral. All of the Fae showed to pay the family their respects. Yet, Fiona was numb to the core of her bones and just nodded and said thank you on instinct. Her only constant light in a dark world, was gone. She had tried to go back to her home in the states, but she couldn't find it in herself to leave. She spent most of her time just lying in the bed they had both shared while growing up and weeping. Her great aunt, Scantlie Mab, eventually scooted her niece out the front door, and on a plain.

Returning home, Fiona plummeted into her work and tried as hard as she could to not be ital. Being ital allowed her thoughts to wonder, and she did not want to be reminded of what she lost. The only sad thing about being a weaver, was that even though the hands moved, she was too accustomed to it. So, regardless of the tedious work she forced herself to smile through, she spent all of her nights crying herself to sleep.

Then, one day, out of the blue, a man called and told Fiona that he and his had found Umhala.

"YOU MOTHER FUCKING ASS HOLE!" Fiona had yelled at the man on the other end of the line. "How dare you call me and tell me such a thing! My sister is dead!"

The man wasn't even fazed by the woman's temper and continued with the call before Fiona could hang up. "This is the number she gave me and told me to ask for," he paused, "Weft? Is that it?" the man asked to someone on his side of the line.

"Did," Fiona tried with all her anger leaving her in an instant. "Did you just say 'weft?'" no one called her that but Umhala. Umhala had given her the nick name when she couldn't remember which way the weft and the warp went.

"_I'm the warp because I'm older and taller_," Umhala had said pointing a finger at herself. "_You are weft, because without you, we cannot make proper cloth. Also, because I get to beat on you,_" a much younger Umhala had said smiling while she lightly tapped Fiona on the arm. So since then, Umhala was the 'Warp,' and Fiona, 'Weft.'

"That's what it says," the man said as air passed over the receiver, like he was turning a piece of paper over from one side to the other. "It says 'call Fiona Weft.' You're last name is Weft? Seriously?"

"No," Fiona said falling to the floor on her knees and shaking her head. "We go by McFey. Weft, is, it's, it's a weaver's joke. I'm the weft to her warp. You," she tried to fight past the lump in her throat. "You found her?" it was a whisper as the tears fell heavily to the floor. "You really found her?"

"Yes, but," the man paused, letting a sigh pass his lips. "The men who kidnapped her," another sigh.

"Please just tell me she still breaths," Fiona said letting the tears and pain flow through her.

"She breaths, but, she's, not in good condition. The men, they, did, horrible things to her," the man said with such woe in his voice Fiona's tears came gushing out harder and her sobs caused her to drop the phone from her ear.

They had hurt her sister. Umhala was nothing but a saint. She offered help to those who needed it. Kindness and understanding to those who didn't deserve it. She was the light to Fiona's dark. She was the keeper of purity and kindness. How could someone have hurt such a pure soul as Umhala?

Sarah, Fiona's assistant and adopted sister, walked in and found Fiona crying to her heart's content. After asking what was the matter, she took the phone and told the man all the information he asked for.

Sarah had stayed by Fiona's side and cried with her. For that alone, Fiona loved the aging woman even more. Sara was a human who knew that Fiona and Umhala were fairies, but didn't care. She felt indebted to Umhala and Fiona for helping her get out of an abusive relationship, getting her a job that she truly enjoyed, a roof over her children's heads and a brighter future. So, she too was glad that Umhala had been found mostly whole and in one piece.

When both the women could formulate complete sentences, Sarah told Fiona what the man had told her over the phone. "They are going to have to put Umhala on a plain," Sarah said still sniffling. "He said that they would have flashed her, but Umhala didn't want to risk hurting her unborn child."

Fiona's neck almost snapped as she looked over to her friend of twenty some odd years. Gazing into Sara's haunted hazel brown eyes, she wanted to make sure she heard correctly. "She's, with child?" Fiona whispered.

Sarah nodded.

"How?" Fiona asked in disbelief. "She's not supposed to be fertile for another hundred years."

"The man, Strider, I think he said his name was, said that the men who took her, Hunters, he called them, gave her some kind of drug and rap, rapt," Sarah tried to get the words out but couldn't get them to formulate on her tongue.

"They raped her?" Fiona growled with a force that surprised Sarah. "They raped my beloved, sweet, innocent sister?" Umhala had always wanted a family of her own, but not by force. That thought alone was enough to fuel Fiona's rage. "I'm going to kill them," she vowed.

"No need," Sara said shaking her head.

"Why not!" Fiona snapped almost taking Sarah's head clean off.

"Strider said they killed all the men responsible. He also said that it wasn't just your sister, but that there were others as well. You'll like this part, one of the captives, she ripped the main Hunter's throat viciously out with her teeth," Sarah said smiling as she wished she could have seen the scene. "The Hunters, were trying to breed some kind of army to fight the, the, Lords of the Underworld?" Sarah said, baffled by the unfamiliar title. "Does that ring a bell?"

Oh yes, that rang a couple belfries and a gong or two for good measure. "You're kidding? Right?"

"No," Sarah said shaking her head. "Who are they?"

"They're the bogeyman's bogeymen," Fiona said shuddering.

"I've never heard of them," Sarah said thinking it over. "I mean, I know there are _Lords_ of the Underworlds, but I don't know _these _Lords of the Underworld."

Fiona leaned her head back and stared at the high vaulted ceiling of _Weaver's Hall_ she and Umhala had constructed half a century ago. The building was large enough to house well over one hundred gigantic hand looms, with sufficient space for each one. Even though they only had ten looms, twenty spindles, and other items associated with their craft in the building, it was a wonderful space to work. Everything had a designated area, and everything for that process was in its area. _Easy work, makes happy_ _people,_ Umhala had once said. "They are supposedly immortals who are possessed by demons. They are warriors through and through. The only thing they love more than war, blood, strife, and mayhem, is more of it."

Sarah sucked in her breath as she placed a withering hand to her mouth.

"Yeah," Fiona said exhaling.

"Who, why, what," Sarah tried to get through.

"Who knows," Fiona shrugged knowing what her long friend was trying to say. "Bragging rights, maybe? All I know, is that since I was a kid," Fiona turned her head to look at Sarah, "I was told stories about them. You did tell your kids about the bogeyman right?"

Sarah smiled as she nodded. "Why do you think I have three of the most obedient children on the planet?" she boasted.

"Because they have an awesome mom and two fairy godparents, literally," Fiona smiled. "Anyway, _they_ are the reason Umhala and I never got out of line. We feared the Lords would find out what we did and hunt us down. Some of the stories we were told, said they would take our wings, immortality, fingers, limbs, what have you, as payment for the wrongs we committed."

"That's horrible!" Sarah exclaimed.

Fiona shrugged. "You have to remember, the stories people told long, long, long, loooong ago, were crueler than they are today. They were the only form of entertainment and education, so they were needed to be effective in that area. And, they were."

"I still can't believe you're _that_ old," Sarah said shaking her head. "I still keep expecting to see crow's feet to grace those eyes of yours and your sisters. But look at me," Sarah said leaning back so Fiona could have a better view of her friend. "My breasts are sagging, I'm constantly tired, and don't _even_ get me started on those spider webs I found."

Fiona tried not to laugh as she leaned back on her hands. "For a human, you're pretty old _grandma_. But, I'm not the eldest or the youngest of my kind. Let's see," Fiona said cocking her head to the side for better brain power. "I think the eldest deity is like, over eight trillion, give or take a century or two. Or at least that's what I was told. Regardless, me being just over three thou, still makes me a kid. Hell, it makes my grandmother just barely an adult, now that I think about it."

"And still no kids," Sarah said shaking her head in disbelief.

"Why would I want kids when I got to watch and help yours grow up? At least your kids honor the old ways while incorporating the new. And if they annoy me, I can just ship them back to you."

"Charlie, Maggie, and Jason never annoyed you," Sarah said nudging her friend.

"No," Fiona said shaking her head and smiling. "They're too much fun to annoy me for any length of time. But, when, when Umhala gets home, we'll have another child to, to play with," Fiona said trying to not break into hysterics again.

Sarah nodded. "This time _I_ get to be the fairy godmother. And I vow that the child will want for nothing."

Fiona nodded. "And Maggie's newest rugrat will have someone new to play with."

"True. And you and Umhala will have another mind to fill with everything Fae."

"Yeah," Fiona smiled.

"Well, come on _auntie_," Sarah said lightly tapping Fiona on the shoulder. "Your sister will be here tomorrow, and you look like hell," she noticed as she stood up.

"Gods, I wish I had half her cleavage. That woman is stacked, packed, and ready to go," Fiona said motioning with her hands the size of the Norse goddess of the Underworld's chest. "Huh, I guess I do have half," she smiled when she looked down.

"Oh, come on you," Sarah said grabbing on to Fiona's hand and walking with her to the kitchen.

Not once, did Sarah mention that that was the first time she had seen Fiona smile and laugh since her sister left as they ate a midnight snack. After which, Sarah had to convince Fiona to sleep, and that they could clean out Umhala's room out later in the morning.

As Fiona lay in her bed, she debated on calling her grandmother. Yet, mid reasoning, she fell asleep, exhausted from the days processions.

Fiona's attention came back to the present as she noticed people coming through the gate. She tried not to run through it and push all the humans aside to get to her sister. After some of the people fanned out, Fiona's heart stopped dead when she saw a woman with long flowing golden hair. The woman was wearing an oversized black t-shirt and sweatpants. Her face was a little too sunken do to malnutrition but there was no mistaking it's once held beauty. When the woman's vastly green eyes meet with hers, Fiona's knees buckled and she crumbled to the ground. Umhala came running through the people to reach her sister with tears of joy streaming down her face.

* * *

So far, I'm digging it. You?


	2. Chapter 2

Fiona was hunched over one of her grandmother's books, trying to find the right combination of knots to incorporate into a weave for the Lords of the Underworld. At first she didn't believe her sister when Umhala told her who it was that saved her. But, when she called Strider back to tell him that her sister made it home safely and in one piece, she asked if he was in fact a Demon Lord. When he told her that he was, Fiona still wanted to deny it. She still couldn't believe that the bogeymen of immortals were the ones to save Umhala. But they were, so she accepted that there had to be some good in them, even if it was only dumb luck that they found Umhala. To repay their kindness, Umhala and Sarah suggested that they make textiles for them. So, here Fiona was, sitting at her office table, books scattered and stacked all over the desk trying to find a pattern that would suite the warriors.

Knowing that they were of Greek decent, she had purchased as many books on Ancient Greece as she could get her hands on. Still not finding what she was looking for, she called her grandmother and asked if she would ship over a copy of her "special" textile patterns. She had tried to make one purely Greek, but it didn't feel right. Celtic, no. Norse, no. Different combinations of each, no. Nothing seemed to work. She tried using a hound, horse, eagle, bear, wolf, any of the ancient warrior symbols. Nothing. The only time she felt even remotely close, was when she drew up a butterfly design for a customer. _Yeah, right, like they would want that_, Fiona had criticized herself.

Trying to figure out how to outfit the warriors was starting to irritate Fiona. Umhala, Sarah and the others, would come up with suggestions, but even those didn't feel right. What they did agree upon was to use grandmother Habetrot's "special" spider silk thread. They had another building specially designed for the spiders to spin their sinks. Over the passing months they had acquired enough spider silk to make about two hundred yards of fabric, give or take a yard or two. But before Fiona would even consider starting to weave, she wanted the pattern to be perfect. So, all the undyed spider silk yarns were sitting in vacuum packed storage bags, separating the one ply from the two ply.

On the verge of giving up, again, Fiona felt a light tap on her shoulder. Turning her head to the right, she saw her sister standing there smiling and wearing a simple, soft turquoise gown. Her face was plumper, her cheeks more rosy with color, her hair more golden than before, and a large protruding roundness to her belly. After Umhala had settled in to her old life, Fiona had asked her sister why she wished to keep the child.

_Because he will remind me that even in this day and age, a beautiful Fae is still sought after_. Umhala had signed with a smile. Even before the Hunters had taken her voice, Umhala and Fiona could sign in American Sign Language. Their great-godson, Alex, was born deaf. Not wanting him to ever feel like an outsider, they had taken it upon themselves to learn ASL so that they could communicate with the child. Since her return, Alex had been spending more and more time with his godaunt.

_Still no luck?_ Umhala signed.

Fiona shook her head as she reached out and placed her hand over her sister's growing belly and smiled. "He's getting big."

_Yes_. Umhala singed nodding her head. _Not much longer now_.

Fiona looked confused. "But it takes two years for us to be born."

_He is half fairy and half human_. Umhala smiled as she looked down at her belly. _They take only nine months to grow. You know that._

"I know but," Fiona shook her head. "I don't want him to arrive until I can figure this," she said waving her hand at the table, "out."

_He'll come when he's ready,_ Umhala smiled. _I doubt he'll care if it's done or not._

"Kids never do," Fiona groaned. "Listen to me little daemon," she whispered forcibly, pressing her cheek softly against Umhala's belly. "Stay there 'till I'm done. Please. When I'm done, I'll delicate every waking moment to you. Promise."

A very light tap hit Fiona's cheek causing her to lean back away from her sister's belly. "I don't think he's gonna listen to me," she moaned.

_Probably not, _Umhala laughed silently.

"Anyway," Fiona said leaning back fully into her chair. "Did you need something?"

Umhala nodded. _It's wonderful for us to don the Lords with this, _she said pointing to the table and it's many contents._ But_, _we don't even know if they will accept it._

"I know," Fiona said running a hand through her raven black hair. "That worries me too. I just, I don't know. The only number I have is Strider's and I don't even know if he'll pick up my call. It's almost been a year since you, since you returned. Would they even remember you or I?" Fiona asked lost to the doubts that plagued her.

_Even if they don't, we do. That's all that matters._

"True," Fiona agreed.

_So, before you take another month long break from this, call them_. Umhala demanded of her sister.

"Is it weird that I can still hear that fun little twang to your voice when you demand things of me I _don't_ want to do, when you sign?" As soon as the question passed her lips, Fiona wanted to kick herself as Umhala gave her a sad smile.

_It means you know me too well._

"Quick change of subject," Fiona said smiling up at her sister. "Have you decided on a name yet?"

Umhala shook her head. _When you call them, ask their opinion on their godson's name._

"I still can't believe you want to make _them_ god parents," Fiona said shaking her head. When Umhala first suggested the idea, Fiona laughed so hard her sides hurt. "_You want to make those Demon Lords godparents?_" she had asked still trying to slow her laughter. When Umhala nodded, Fiona laughed harder.

Umhala nodded. _With them as godparents, we know that he'll be protected, because who wants to fight the bogeymen?_

_Hunters, apparently_, Fiona thought to herself as she sighed and passed a hand over her face. "Alright, I'll ask."

_Good, _Umhala nodded. _In the mean time, show me your new designs. I know you've produced more._

Sadly, she had done more sketches. Shifting books and papers around, she was able to find the new sketches. As Fiona and Umhala looked them over making tiny changes here and there, Sarah interrupted them to say that dinner was done. Putting their work aside, Umhala and Fiona followed the old woman to the main house so that they could eat.

"So," Sarah asked when everyone was finished eating, "Made any head way?"

"No," Fiona whined, wanting to stretch across the table in defeat.

"Why can't we just do a regular weave again?" Maggie asked from across the table while she feed her new born babe, Andrew, under a shawl.

_We want to give them a weave that is unique to them._ Umhala signed. _One that will protect them as well as cloth them._

"I still don't see how this mystery pattern will protect them," Charlie, who was sitting a few chairs down from his sister, spoke up.

"It's not just a weave pattern, it's a spell," Fiona explained giving in and shielding her head in her arms over the table. "The pattern is the just the physical interpretation of the spell."

"So what kind of _spell_ are you supposed to _weave_ for them?" Charlie asked before his sister could.

_It varies from person to person._ Umhala said, sighing in frustration. _Used to, the wives of the men would chose the design or it would be chosen for him due to his deeds. Sometimes it was the design of their family's shield._

"So what do we know about them?" Sarah asked sipping her tea at the head of the table.

"They're bogeymen who return family members," Fiona said raising her head and drawing her hands across her face. "Other than that, not much."

Umhala slapped her sister on her arm to get her attention. _Does Grandmother still not know anything to use?_

Fiona snorted. "She says she won't help. The only reason she sent me her books, was because I told her I wanted to make a blanket for the babe," she said gesturing toward Umhala's stomach. "Which was half truth."

"Why won't she help?" Maggie asked. "Isn't she like, the goddess of weaving, or something?"

"_The_ goddess, no. _A_ goddess, yes," Fiona corrected her. "But anyway, she won't help because their," she cleared her throat. "Dirty, stinking, Gréagach." Fiona repeated her grandmother's slander.

"Dirty, stinking, what?" Sarah asked.

"Greeks," Fiona interpreted with a sigh. "She's still pissed that the Roman army invaded our homeland. And, since Romans are kin to Greeks," Fiona shrugged and shook her head. "She won't help. She's grateful, but won't help."

"How long ago was that?" Charlie asked, confused on what she was talking about.

"Um," Fiona said rubbing the back of her neck to find the answer.

_About 2000 years ago_, Umhala filled in for her sister.

"Really?" Charlie, Maggie, and Sarah asked at the same time. "Damn I feel old." Fiona added.

_Give or take a few years. And what do _you_ mean _you_ feel old?_ Umhala asked her sister.

"Oh nothing," Fiona shrugged. "We're just gonna need to make a fifty tier cake to fit all those candles on, o' ancient one," Fiona grinned wickedly.

_I hate you sometimes_.

"No you don't." Fiona smiled.

Umhala shook her head as she tried not to smile at her sister.

"She's been holding a grudge for over two thousand years?" Maggie asked, shocked that the kind old woman had an evil streak.

"Yeah. And let me tell you, you do _not_ want to be on the receiving end of her wrath. She'll make you wish for the end of not only your life, but the end of the world," Fiona said, shivering at some of the things her grandmother did in her youth.

"Well," Sarah said, getting them back on track. "We apparently can't think of anything that would benefit them, so why not take the sketches and the samples to them and see what they think? And we still need to know their sizes. Otherwise, the clothing won't fit right."

"Yes Miss Umhala," Fiona said sarcastically. "I plan on calling Strider in the morning."

"Why not call them now?" Charlie asked.

"Because, I don't think they live here in the states," Fiona replied shrugging her shoulders. "Or on this side of the planet, for that matter. Which means they live over by Grandma Habetrot somewhere, and it's insanely early on that side of the planet."

"So, when _are_ you gonna call?" Maggie asked.

"Around," Fiona said as she tried to do mental math. "Five, maybe? That would be around eleven in the UK, if my math is right."

Umhala's hands went to her mouth in shock. _Maggie, call Ripley's! Fiona can do math!_

"Oh shut up," Fiona growled as the others laughed.


	3. Chapter 3

With Flogging Molly's _Seven Deadly Sins_ blasting from the alarm clock, Fiona moaned as she reached over and turned the alarm off. "Five more minutes," she told the clock as she rolled back over and fell back to sleep. Again, Flogging Molly blasted and woke Fiona out of a peaceful sleep. "Fine," she moaned as she slapped the thing off again. Stretching like a cat from it's nap, she slowly sat up and headed for the bathroom.

After her morning ritual was complete, she headed to the huge kitchen that Sarah had designed for their growing family. It was all in soft pastels that made one want to stay in the room forever if given a chance. Reaching the coffee pot, she filled the coffee maker with water and Maxwell House grounds. While she waited for the coffee to steep, she took the dishes from the dishwasher and put them all in their appropriate places, leaving out a mug, bowl, and spoon. She filled the bowl with dry oatmeal and milk, and then placed it in the microwave. Keeping out the milk, she filled her mug with the fresh coffee and filled the rest of the mug with the milk and sugar. Putting the milk back, the microwave yelled that it was done. Taking the spoon out of her mug, she sprinkled sugar over the oatmeal and added dark molasses in for a good sugar high later.

"Hay Aunt Fe," Jason, Sarah's youngest son, yawned through as he stretched his arms over his head. "Good, you made coffee," he smiled as he beelined it to the coffee pot.

"Hay Jas," Fiona said after swallowing her panic after Jason's sudden appearance. "What are you doing up so early?" she asked him as he reached in the cabinet to get a mug for his coffee.

"I had an insane idea for a new color and wanted to get it started," he shrugged.

For only being twenty three, Jason was a terrible, terrible weaver. But, he did have an insane knack for making the most beautiful dyes imaginable. He was like a painter with the colors he could produce. When Umhala and Fiona were training all the kids and Sarah on how to weave, Jason sucked, horribly. He couldn't tell the difference between the multiple grades of wool, cotton, or silk. He would clog up the drum carters thinking he could get it done faster if he applied more than it could hold. His spinning was never, ever, even. He also didn't have the patients to mount a loom. But give him the ingredients to make a dye, and he became Leonardo di Vinci.

"So what's the new color?" Fiona asked as she put another spoonful of the sugary oats into her mouth.

"I'm going to call it, Black Light Panorama," Jason said waving his arm in the air highlighting the title he chose.

"Uh huh. And how much yarn are you gonna need to make this one?" Fiona asked knowing that if the first batch didn't come out to his satisfaction, he would go through another yard of yarn, and another, and another till it was just right. Can we say perfectionist?

"Don't know," Jason shrugged. "Could take one nest or it could take fifty." Jason spun around to look at his aunt with the biggest, saddest puppy dog eyes he could muster. "You wouldn't deny your favorite godson his new creation would you?"

Fiona was far too immune to his antics, and could spot the mischievousness in his hazel brown eyes too well. "You can use ten, that's _ten_, not eleven, not thirty, _ten_, nests," she said pointing a warning spoon at him. "And I expect written documentation on what you did, exactly how you did it, and what you changed through each batch. If, and only _if_, it still doesn't come out to how you want it, I want the documents so I can go over them with you. _If_ you get it right, however, we'll _see_ about adding it to the swatch samples."

"Aye, aye captain," Jason saluted with a huge grin on his face before he turned around and finished filling his coffee mug.

Fiona shook her head as she placed her spoon back in her bowl.

For a human, Jason was the embodiment of a pixy. He loved to play pranks and see if he could get away with them. When his targets were Fiona and Umhala though, he failed. Yet, he continued to try. Out of his two siblings, he was cursed with resembling his father. Tall, handsome, well built, and a head of mahogany hair. Not that Charlie and Maggie weren't as well developed, it was just that Jason embodies his sire. Though, he didn't like alcohol and he loved women too much to beat them.

"So why are you awake?" Jason asked as he sat down catty corner to Fiona.

Fiona moaned. "I have to somehow convince a group of blood thirsty bogeymen that I want to help them, and _pray_ that they don't take my head in the process."

"Whow. That's a tall order," Jason sympathized.

"You're telling me," Fiona said playing with what little oatmeal she had left in her bowl.

"So when are you supposed to do this?" he asked taking a sip of his coffee.

Fiona looked up to the doorway where an analog clock was hung. "Here in about, five minutes."

"But it's like five in the morning," Jason exclaimed almost chocking on his coffee.

Fiona shrugged. "It's a little past eleven in the UK."

"Oh," Jason said understanding dawning on him. "Got it."

There was silence as Fiona finished her breakfast and Jason downed his coffee.

"So," Jason finally spoke, "Why haven't you called them before now? I mean, you went through all that work to bring in the, spiders," he shivered at the hated word. "Why didn't you tell them what you were doing then?"

"For the same reason you and the others kept calling us crazy," Fiona said as she scooted her chair out and stood up. "No one believed spider silk could do what we said it could," she explained taking her bowl to the sink. Leaning on the counter she looked over to her godson. "Before we showed you what it could do, did you truly believe that it was stronger than Kevlar?"

"I must admit, I was in the nonbeliever category," Jason smiled. "But, aren't they like you? What reason would they have to doubt you?"

"One, they're not like me. Well, not totally. Anyway, that's a whole other discussion. Two, no one has seen spider silk textiles in," Fiona paused as she thought over the time span. "Over two thousand years, give or take a century or two."

"Waite, waite, waite," Jason said raising a hand to stop his godaunt. "You're telling me, that spider silk weaving is a lost art?" Jason asked confused.

"Not lost. Just, very, very, very rare."

"And how many times has it been _bestowed_ to someone?"

"In my lifetime, once."

Jason shook his head in disbelief. "So you're telling me, that in all this time, only one guy, girl, whatever, has actually proven to be worthy?"

"Yep."

"What did he or she have to do? Die and come back to life numerous times?"

Fiona laughed. "No," she said shaking her head.

"I hate to ask, but what did this person do," Jason said running a hand through his short mahogany hair.

"_They_ are the High King and Queen of the Fae," Fiona said mater of factly. "And before you complain," she said, cutting Jason off what he was going to ask. "It was bestowed to them at the same time. So, _one_ bestowing."

"So no human has ever received it?"

"Not that I know of," Fiona said shaking her head. "It took Habetrot and Scantlie Mab over a thousand years to collect enough spider silk to make the gowns for our King and Queen. Since no human lives that long," Fiona shrugged. "It would have been a waste of time. Besides, those gowns were Habetrot's and Scantlie Mab's masterpieces. And like any good master craftsman, they quit and started teaching others."

"So why hasn't anyone else tried it since then?"

Fiona shrugged. "Too time consuming, maybe. People just kind of, forgot, that it was possible, would be my guess."

"Well then," Jason smiled as he stood up to get another mug of coffee. "Your grandmother should be proud that you and Umhala were able to produce, what, enough silk to make ten gowns in less than two months."

"One would think. Actually, she's pissed as hell about that," Fiona laughed.

"I get that. A thousand years condensed into two months. I'd be pissed too," Jason laughed. "Anyway, have fun with the bogeymen," he said patting Fiona on her back. "I'm gonna go play," he grinned wickedly.

"Chicken," she mocked as he turned and headed for the door.

"You bet," he called over his shoulder as he walked out of the kitchen.

"Uh," Fiona moaned as she slumped into the counter. Minuets passed as she debated with herself over all the possible scenarios that could happen.

"Okay, I can do this," she told herself as she moved away from the counter and headed for her room and her phone.


	4. Chapter 4

"Who is this?" a very angry male demanded on the second ring. "This call better be worth your life. You just made me die in Call of Duty while I was on a winning streak."

"Um, is this, is this Strider?" Fiona asked meekly as she stood in the middle of her high vaulted, and sparsely furnished room, rocking back and forth on her heals.

"Who is this and how did you get this number?" he demanded.

"Um, my, my name is Fiona McFey. I'm the uh, the sister to one of the, one of the women you save in Egypt, a few months back?" Damn Fiona hated her shyness at the moment. She had worked herself up, and he had smashed her confidence down in less than a heartbeat.

"Oh," the man said cooling his temper. "How is she doing?"

"Good. She's good. Uh, is this, Strider?"

"Yeah. So what can I do for you?" he asked.

"Actually," Fiona said taking in a huge breath for courage. "The question is, what can I do for you?" There, that wasn't hard. Taking in another long breath, Fiona speed through her speech so fast, she got it all out in one breath. "My sister and I are weavers by trade. We were taught by our grandmother, Habetrot, you probably have no idea who she is. She's the Celtic goddess of spinning and weaving. Anyway. The reason I wanted to talk to you, was to offer you and the other Lords of the Underworld a boon for saving my sister. We have discussed it, and we think the best thing we could bestow unto you is armor, uniforms, what have you, made out of spider silk. I know what you're thinking. Spider silk? Yes. It's lighter than silk, cooler than cotton, and warmer than wool. But what I think you would like most about it is that it's ten times stronger than Kevlar. We've already made up samples so if you like we can send them to you to prove what I say is true."

"I caught, none of that," Strider confessed after a moment of silence. "Take a breath, calm down, and try again," he suggested.

"Sorry, I'm, I'm really nerves," Fiona said as she moved to her bed and sat down.

"No problem, just learn how to breath when you talk," Strider laughed.

_Is he laughing at me?_ Fiona thought to herself. _He's not mad that I called? Okay, I can do this_.

After a few deep breaths, Fiona made it through her little speech at a much slower pace than before. When she finished, Strider was very quiet. "Are, are you there?" Fiona asked confused and checking her phone to make sure she hadn't accidently hung up.

"Yeah, I'm here. Hold on a sec," Strider told her.

"O, okay," Fiona said still not sure what to do.

"Sabin, Lucien, come here!" Strider called. "Here hold on," he said again as he fidgeted with his phone. "Can you hear me?" he asked Fiona.

"Y, yes, I can hear you," Fiona said as she was able to hear more of his surroundings. _He put me on speaker phone! _Absently she started to twirl a strand of hair around her index finger.

"What is this about?" a new voice asked.

"You have to hear this," Strider told the voice.

"Hear what?" a second voice asked.

"Alright, I want you to tell them everything you just told me," he said addressing Fiona.

"All, all of it?" _How many times is he gonna make me say it?_ Fiona wondered with a whine.

"Yes, all of it. From the beginning. Go," Strider said with so much excitement in his voice.

"O, okay. My name is Fiona McFey…" For the third time she repeated what she wanted to tell them. For a third time, there was silence after she finished.

"How long would it take you to make this spider silk armor?" the first new voice asked.

"Um, we already have most of it ready to be dyed and woven. After that, about a fortnight to make the fabric and sew it into clothing," Fiona informed the man.

"You said you have samples and can prove what you say," the second voice wondered.

"Yes."

"If this cloth can do as you claim it can, I would be more than interested in this spider silk of yours," the first voice commented.

"Um, well. If you give me an address, I can have it FedExed to you this afternoon," Fiona said hoping that they would agree.

"I don't want to wait that long," the first voice told someone.

"I agree," the second voice. "Fiona, how well do you handle teleporting?"

"Um, it's not my _best_ skill," she confessed as she dragged a hand through her hair. "But," she interrupted just as the first voice was going to speak. "Before you get too excited, I should tell you the down sides to spider silk."

"Go on," the first said.

"Even though it is impervious to normal attacks, it's only weakness is enchanted items. So if your foes are using anything enchanted, it will go right through the fabric like a warm knife through butter." Fiona explained, stabbing the air in front of her like she was stabbing someone. "But, there is an upside to that weakness. My sister and I have been trying to come up with a weaving pattern that will counteract most enchanted items. We have about a three hundred different patterns. To us, none of them _feel_ right. So, we thought it would be best if you chose one."

"What can it protect us from?" the second asked.

"Um, anything enchanted by using the basic elements; such as earth, air, fire, water, wood, steel, and lightning."

"What about bullets filled with water from the rivers of Hades?" the first asked.

"Um, I'm not familiar, with that one. I know what Hades is, but I'm not familiar on what the water's effects are. So, what are the effects and antidote?" Fiona asked. "I'll see if I can figure something out."

As the first voice explained the effects, Fiona racked her brain on what she knew of that caused those effects. It was the antidote that had Fiona bursting into laughter.

"What's so funny?" both voice one and two asked.

"The antidote," Fiona laughed. "Water from the River of Life," she got out through laughs. "Usquebaugh."

"What is she talking about?" Strider ask.

"No idea," one confessed.

"Usquebaugh _means_ Waters of Life," Fiona said trying to stop laughing. "Usquebaugh is whiskey. _Whiskey_ is the _Water of Life_. It's too funny."

Growls and laughter passed through the microphone into Fiona's ear.

"Say it one more time," Strider asked laughing.

"Ish-ka-ba-ha," Fiona said as her laughter started to subside.

Strider laughed. "Bartender, one usquebaugh." Even though he butchered the word, Fiona laughed again at his excitement for learning a new word.

"Sorry," Fiona finally said wiping tears from her eyes. "Sorry, but oh I needed that. To answer your question, no. I have no idea if it will work. If I had a vial of _whiskey_," she giggled, "to add to the water when we dye it, it might counteract the effects. But I can't guarantee it one way or the other."

"Shit," voice one cursed under his breath.

"But if you like," Fiona offered. "I can try to talk to Caillech and see what she says."

"Who?" voice two asked.

"My sire's dam. Caillech is the guardian to the gates of Hel. Well, _a_ guardian."

"I've been to the gates of Hell," voice two stated. "I've never seen a woman guarding the gate."

"Do you always go to the same gate?" Fiona asked.

"There's only _one_ gate," two half growled.

"Um," Fiona said shaking her head. "Actually, there are thirteen. But that's another discussion," she said waving her hand in the air.

A very audible popping sound was heard over the background noise.

"Anyway, I'll still ask and see what she says," Fiona said leaning back on her free hand.

"You do that," one said. "In the mean time, what do you have planned for the day?"

"Um, I still have an order I need to finish. But that won't take long. Why?" Fiona asked.

"We wish to test this silk of yours first hand," one said in a very mischievous tone.


	5. Chapter 5

After a few hours, Torin had all the information Sabin and Lucien had asked for.

Fiona and Umhala McFey's names first appeared on one of the first rosters for those leaving England to the New World in the mid 1600's. He also found a copy of a land deed given to a Fiona and Umhala on April 22, 1889. By May 30th, there was another notation about their plot size and location. A century later, they had established a textile business on the same plot they won during the Land Rush. There were also mentions of them in church papers saying how they were donating fabric to needy women during the Depression. They were offering wool, cotton, and fleece. They were also offering classes to teach women and men how to weave if they wished. Then, he found a clipping in a newspaper claiming that Fiona and Umhala were giving up all rights to their business to a Sarah McFey. Who, Torin found out, was actually Sarah Owens. She was a wife to an alcoholic, wife beating, car mechanic for fifteen years. Sarah and Michael Owens had had three children together, Charles, Maggie, and Jason Owens. Then Sarah and her children petitioned for a name change. There were only three mentions of them in the past few years. One saying how Umhala was missing and that they were offering a reward. The second was of Charles Jr. winning an award for a black and white photo of his aunt Fiona. She was standing on a patio with one hand on the railing, wind sweeping her black, waist long hair this way and that, while her other hand swept some free strands behind her delicately pointed ear. What Torin was most entranced by, was the longing in her eyes. It was like she wasn't even there regardless of her surroundings. He couldn't explain it, but both he and Disease wished to sooth her pain. Which was odd. His demon, Disease, was normally just a feeling that was there, he hardly ever spoke, and never to sooth just destroy and spread his infection. The last clipping was of how Umhala McFey had been found and was returning back to her normal life after two years of being lost.

He also did his research on Habetrot. That proved to be a dead end. Yes, she was a Celtic goddess of spinning both thread and spells, but that's all it had. Well, that and a fairy tale. But neither were very helpful. There was also a business in Scotland called Habetrot's Weaves. It was owned by humans who had no connection to the actual Habetrot. Apparently, the goddess was better at hiding than her grandchildren.

As requested, he also did research on spiders. Lucian and Sabin wanted proof that spider silk could in fact deflect bullets and knives. What he found out was shocking. Not only was the silk stronger than Kevlar, as Fiona had said, but it also had healing properties all their own. He also discovered that humans in Madagascar had produced spider silk fabric. What he couldn't figure out, was how Fiona and Umhala planned on outfitting them if it took those humans four years to make a fabric that was only 11x4 feet in total.

There was a knock at his door. Looking to the monitor that watched his door, he saw Lucian and Sabin standing there looking up at the camera that was positioned just outside the door.

With a stroke of a key, the door unlocked and the men entered.

"Any luck Disease," Sabin asked walking up to the desk of monitors.

Torin pointed to a large folder filled with all the documents that he had printed out at the end of the long desk that held his many eyes and ears to the city of Buda. "It's all there. I'm just looking into weaving patterns. I still don't understand how it's supposed to help."

"Fiona said that the patterns were a, physical representation, of the spell they were going to weave," Lucian offered, still confused on that part as well, as he and Sabin looked the contents over.

"Is this Fiona?" Sabin asked as he came to the page with the only photo of the mysterious fairy.

"That's who the kid claims it is," Torin said not wanting to see the picture again and experience that longing it caused in his chest.

"She's, cute," Lucian offered after they turned the paper this way and that. "Not much to her though."

A growl from Disease tried to escape through Torin.

"Got to give the kid props," Sabin said still looking at the photo. "Danika and Anya would love it."

Disease purred in agreement, causing Torin to question what the demon was thinking and why it cared.

_Butterfly_. Disease purred as he stroked himself against the sides of his cage, like a great cat marking his territory.

_And we can't have her without infecting her, remember?_

Disease sighed compliance as he curled up in a ball and fell back to sleep.

"What is all this?" Lucian asked turning the paper over to show Torin the map he printed out of the McFey's home.

"The medium building is the house," Torin explained after he turned to see what was being asked of him. "The large one, I'm guessing, is their _Weaver's Hall_. Not sure what's in the smaller building," Torin said passing a hand through his hair.

"I think he was referring to these," Sabin said pointing to a perfectly, evenly spaced 10x10 connect-the-dots pattern.

"Not sure," Torin said shaking his head. "My guess, it's used in their craft somehow."

There was silence again as the men continued to look over the pages while Torin surveyed the city for any signs of Hunters. With all the recent attacks on their fortress, he was starting to hate that Hunters didn't stand out more so he could spot them on site. Couldn't they have tattooed their foreheads instead? That would make them easier to spot. Though, with technology they way that it was, they could have used makeup to hide their mark of infinity even if they did put it on their foreheads.

"Shit," Lucian muttered when they got to the section on spider silk. "She was telling the truth."

"Where was she a thousand years ago, or even a millennia?" Sabin wanted to know.

Torin smiled. "They left for the US in the 1600's. They were probably in the UK before that. I couldn't find any record of them prior."

"And you're sure she's actually related to this, Habetrot?" Lucian asked.

Torin shrugged. "Don't know. There's no paper trail to follow on the alleged grandmother."

"Has she been living under a rock or something?" Sabin wondered.

Torin laughed. "One of her stories claims she lives under a _knoll_ actually. But most of the legends say that almost all the Fae have been in hiding since the Roman army invaded and converted the Celts and Druids into Christians. Some people have claimed to have seen a fairy, but none of them fit Habetrot's description," Torin shrugged again. "She told the truth on everything else, why lie about her heritage?"

"Could they be working for the Hunters?" Sabin asked.

"Not that I can find," Torin said shaking his head. "Their human family knows what they are, and I doubt they would believe what the Hunters tried to tell them."

"Then how did they find the girl?" Lucian asked.

"Luck," Torin offered with a shrug. "If Fiona's picture is any consolation, she probably looks the part of being supernatural. They also took her when she was on a trip in her homeland. They could have just assumed she was what they thought her to be."

"What about the people they interact with?" Sabin wondered.

"Fiona and Umhala _kill_ themselves every hundred years or so, to be reborn. On paper they are the great-to-the-nth-degree-grandchildren of the original Fiona and Umhala. So no one should know, outside of their family, that they are in fact the real Fiona and Umhala," Torin shrugged. "Other than that, I can't find any connection to the Hunters. Even the people they trade with have no connections."

"The people they trade with?" Lucian asked confused.

"Weaver's Hall is apparently well stocked buy a ranch in their area. They also get dye material and vegetables from local farmers. They do take commission jobs, but even then, they don't ship outside the country. Their shipping and receiving records show only a few packages to the UK, same with their phone records. I'm thinking, that that's their grandmother. But I can't get a lock on it."

"How can the computer genius not get a lock on something?" Sabin asked with a slight grin.

"Something's blocking it," Torin smiled at the challenge. "Give me a bit and I'll crack it like an egg."

"I'll hold you to that," Sabin said nodding his head.

"So, you going to flash, or do I need to procure you a flight?" Torin asked with a grin at Sabin, knowing he hated to flash.

"Flash," Lucin stated. "If it's really going to take her two week to outfit us, I want it done a month ago."

"Hell, I would have been happier two years ago," Sabin said as he started walking to the door, folder in hand.

"And where are you going?" Lucian asked arms crossing over his chest.

"To show this to the others," Sabin said raising the folder up so the others could see it. "If they don't believe Strider's story, I bet this will help."

"Don't show it to Gideon," Torin laughed. "He'll flip out and demand that 'he does need to be unprotected by mosquitoes.'"


	6. Chapter 6

Fiona was in her office cataloging all the patterns and samples she had made for the Lords of the Underworld. They had said that they would be coming by, so Fiona decided to get a head start on their arrival. If her math was right, which it should be because she even went so far as to look up how long it would take to get from Greece to their little plot in the middle of nowhere, it should have taken them eighteen hours to fly and another five to drive to Weaver's Hall. So with that in mind, she finished one of her customer's textiles and gathered up all the new spider silk before she got to work in her office. Finishing the fabric took little over an hour, gathering the silk took about half, and she was now up to her ankles in plastic sleeves and paper. Arranging the patterns took a bit, but she got them in an order that she liked and started to sleeve them into a five inch three ring binder. On the cover and spine of the black binder, she wrote "Lot-U" on a slip of paper and placed it into its protected sleeve.

"Perfect," she congratulated herself as she held it up to the light. Placing it down on the table, she went through the drawings and samples again. They were arranged by samples, in order that they were woven, Greek designs, Celt designs, Norse designs, then Greek and Celtic, Greek and Norse, with the final section to Celtic and Norse. She even further cataloged it by what animal it represented. Fiona doubted the Lords would appreciate it, but she was happy with it. She wanted them to understand that she could and would help them even if they didn't believe her. She might have mental lapses from time to time, but she knew her trade just as well as she knew that the sun rose in the east and set in the west.

"Aunt Fiona," Charles Jr. shouted as he came skidding to a halt at the door to the office. "Come quick," he half shouted waving for her to follow him.

"What is it?" Fiona asked as panic started to rise. "Is Umhala in labor?" she wondered as she stood up and made her way to follow him.

"No," Jr. said shaking his head. "There's two huge guys here and they're asking for you."

Fiona tilted her head to the side. "Two guys?"

"Their huge! Like golems! Maybe bigger, like a troll!" Jr. explained as he reached his hands over his head to emphasize height, and to expand them at the shoulder to show how wide they were.

"What would a troll be doing here?" Fiona asked. "You know they only like forest, mountains or caverns. We have neither here."

"They're not trolls," Jr said shaking his head. "I don't know what they are, just come," he demanded grabbing Fiona's hand and dragging his aunt behind him through Weaver's Hall.

When they got to the main house, Jr was still dragging Fiona through to the kitchen. It wasn't till they reached the kitchen that both Jr. and Fiona stopped dead. There at the table sat two huge men. One with blond hair and boyish features, the other had dark hair and scars all over his face. Fiona wanted to grab her sister and Sarah, who here sitting across the men at the table, and run for dear life. But, panic had her feet glued to the floor.

"Fiona," Sarah smiled up at her when the men moved their gaze to her. "Come sit," the old woman said patting the chair next to her.

_Flee! Hide! Stay safe! _The mantra continued to run through her mind as she was still stuck to the floor. Her feet and legs not able to obey what she knew she should be doing.

"Fiona," Sarah half shouted at the fairy. "You are being very rude staring like that. You too Jr. Jr. close your mouth and go find your father for me. Fiona, sit," the woman demanded of them. Jr. was the first to find himself, and turned 180 degrees to do as was asked of him.

_They're not here to hurt us._ Umhala signed with a beaming smile. _These are the men that saved me._

Fiona was too far gone in her mantra to even notice what her sister was saying.

"Fiona!" Sarah finally yelled. "Sit!"

Knees buckling, Fiona fell to the floor on her knees and sat where she was standing.

"I didn't mean there," Sarah said placing her index and thumb at the bridge of her nose.

"I wish Hunters acted that way," the blond commented with a slight laugh.

That voice. She knew that voice. It belonged to, what was his name?

"Oh please get off the floor," Sarah moaned at Fiona. "She's usually not like this," she spoke to the men at the table.

"It's fine," the blond smiled. "We don't get to see many people act that way very often."

_I know that voice._ A small thought passed through Fiona. "I, you," she tried to speak with no luck.

"Yes," the men said at the same time.

"You, your," shock still thick in her veins.

"They are the men you called this morning. Remember?" Sarah helped.

Fiona moved her gaze to her old friend, very slowly, not wanting to catch the men's attention more than she already had. "Twenty hours," she whispered.

Sarah sighed as she stood from her seat. "I know," she said slowly walking to the scared fairy. "But unlike you, they can flash without running into things."

Flash. Yes, that was the ans…No! She was not going to leave her sister and friend in a room with those men. But she wasn't doing much good sitting on the floor either.

"Come on," Sarah said extending a hand down for Fiona to take. "Let's get you up."

Slowly, Fiona reached her hand up. "That's a good girl," Sarah said as if she was coxing a scared child. "They're not here to hurt us."

As gracefully as she could on wobbly knees, Fiona stood up and was escorted to the chair next to the one Sarah had sat in. When Fiona was in her chair, Sarah took hers as well.

"Now," Sarah said looking at Fiona. "Did Jr. tell you to grab your sketches?"

Not moving her eyes away from the men, Fiona shook her head.

"Why that no good grandson of mine. I specifically told him to tell you to grab it," Sarah fumed. "Ah well," she sighed. "Excuse me," she nodded to the men as she stood again to leave the room.

Without thinking Fiona grasped onto Sarah's wrist.

"I won't be gone long," Sarah said patting Fiona's hand. "I'm just going to get the sketches and be right back. Besides, someone needs to translate for Umhala. You can do that right?" Sarah asked with a smile.

Slowly Fiona nodded and let go of Sarah's hand. She watched as she old woman left the room, but was disturbed by her sister snapping to get her attention.

_Are you okay?_ Umhala asked.

Shaking her head, Fiona was going to reply aloud but raised her shaky hands and signed back. _They're bigger than I thought they would be. I'll be fine. Just, let me get my bearings back in order._

_I told you they aren't like the tales we were told._

_Yeah, but you also didn't tell me how scary they were, even without their rows and rows of teeth._

_They're not sharks_. Umhala silently laughed.

_I think they are._ Fiona snorted.

_Tell them we're happy they came so quickly, you chicken. _Umhala smiled.

"I'm not a chicken," Fiona quietly growled at her sister.

_So then, I imagined you falling to your knees in panic?_ Umhala teases.

For a moment, Fiona resembles a fish as her mouth opened and closed. "I hate you," Fiona glared at her sister.

_No you don't._ Umhala beamed. _Now tell them_, she said gesturing to the men.

Taking in a deep breath, Fiona turned in her chair to look at the men. Only to forget what she was going to say. "So, your, the, the Lords?" she finally got out.

"Yes," the blond nodded. "I am Sabin. This," he gestured to the scared man, "is Lucian."

"How, how many of you are there?" Fiona asked gaining some of her normal composure.

"Hundreds," Lucian commented with a shrug.

Fiona and Umhala's jaws dropped. "We, we, don't have that much spider silk to make that many outfits," Fiona said in shock. "That would take, years."

"Not all of us will need outfits," Sabin smiled. "We have thirteen Lords at the fortress and six others."

Thirteen, plus six, is, "So you need, nineteen?" Fiona asked looking to her sister to make sure her math was right. When Umhala nodded she felt a little better.

"Yes," Lucian nodded.

Fiona passed a hand through her hair. "That's, four yard for pants, three for shirts, times, rounding up, twenty," she said writing on the table with her fingers.

_One hundred and forty yards_, Umhala supplied.

"I was getting there," Fiona remarked to her sister's mathematical mind.

Umhala smiled. _You're too slow._

Turning her attention back to the men, she said, "I think we have enough to make that many. But, we still can't start unless we know what colors you want it in and a pattern of protection is agreed upon. Also, we would need to know everyone's sizes so we could make them when we have the material ready."

_Don't forget about the contract_. Umhala reminded her sister.

"Oh right," Fiona nodded. "We would also have to make a blood contract in order for us to proceed with the spell."

"Why would you need a blood contract?" Lucian asked raising an eyebrow.

Fiona took in a large breath. "The blood contract enables that only a person who is bound to the contract can wear the clothing without, um, dying?" Fiona said not knowing a better way to explain how the side effects worked. Death was usually the end result.

"It can, do that?" Sabin asked flabbergasted.

"Yes," Fiona and Umhala nodded. "Also, the day the person dies, the clothing will start to, disintegrate."

"So would each of us have to make a contract?" Lucian asked still baffled by what was being told to him.

"No," Fiona said shaking her head. "We can write up a mass contract, but all the outfits will be bound to one person. Waite, that's not right. One person is bound to one outfit. Yeah, that's right."

"And this pattern you keep referring to?" Sabin asked.

"The pattern is a physical representation of the spell," Fiona explained again. "It's, it's. Oh what is that word?" Fiona asked herself as she cradled her head in her hands.

Umhala hit her sister on her arm. _It's our guarantee that it is made _for_ them _by_ us and that no one can break it._

"I like that explanation better," Fiona smiled at her sister. Turning to the Lords, she repeated what Umhala said.

"Except upon death," Sabin grinned.

Fiona nodded. "And, if you're like us, that would only be because you lost your head. Well, there are other ways, but that's the fastest way to do it."

"So what do you require for this contract?" Lucian asked.

"Um, three drops of blood from each percipient and us blended into a single vial to supply the ink. Also, we would need three more to bind the fabric to a certain person," Fiona explained.

"That's it?" Lucian wondered not believing all the benefits.

"Yes," Fiona nodded.

"What kind of pattern should we be looking for?" Sabin asked.

"Something that binds you all together. Like, um, for Umhala and I, it's a loom. So anytime we make cloth for one another, we incorporate a loom in there somewhere. But, I don't know you all have matching marks or symbols that state ranks, houses, or whatever, that could also be used. It needs to be something that represents you as a whole not a single," when the men both looked to one another, Fiona tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Does that help?"

"What about tattoos or brands?" Sabin and Lucian asked almost simultaneously when their attention was back to the fairies.

"Um, as long as you each have it or agree to it, yeah. That would work."


	7. Chapter 7

Ha, ha! I just realized that I made some small mistakes throughout the previous chapters. Their fixed now, so don't worry. They're small, so if you're trying to find them, Have Fun! It was just a couple of misspellings here and there that I caught a little late. ^_^

Oh, thank you again for all your support on this. I also hope that some of you have been looking into spinning and weaving as new hobbies. I find it to be a highly fascinating thing. Growing up, I knew how to sew, but never how they made the fabrics and threads I used. So learning all this for you has been an awesome learning experience.

* * *

After Sarah brought in the Lot-U's folder, Fiona inwardly moaned in disgust when they asked to take out the swatches and test them out. Fiona couldn't hold it against them though. So, with some help, they rigged up a small shooting range and let the guys have at it. Everyone was soon heading toward the sounds of gunfire. Fiona and Umhala told them what was going on before Charlie and Jason could take a swing with their bats. Complaining that they should have been warned sooner, they headed back into the house, or Weaver's Hall to do whatever they had been doing.

Once four clips were emptied, each, the Lords were more than impressed. They were so impressed that they were each laughing so hard it was freaking Fiona out. She was just happy that the fabric held up to that much gun fire. Once the giggle fest was over, the Lords asked if they could take the swatches with them to show the others. When Fiona said that they were theirs to do with as they pleased, they just smiled.

Thinking that they would want to see the patterns, Fiona started to lead them to the house. Only, they asked for a tour of Weaver's Hall. Shrugging, Fiona and Umhala complied. They went through and showed the men every process that went into their trade. When they asked to see where the spiders were being kept, Fiona looked to Umhala and smiled. Seeing one or two spiders was fine for most people. Their building was holding about a hundred. Watching the blood hungry warriors cringe and head back to the door the moment the lights came on, was funny to watch. Fiona and Umhala laughed as they turned the lights off and followed the men out.

"How do you get them to spin silk for you?" Sabin asked when the fairies joined them.

"Trade secret." Fiona said putting a finger to her lips.

"They won't even tell us," Sarah said as she was walking toward them with a tray of mugs for everyone, a teapot, and a sugar jar. "Keeping secrets from your own kin like that," Sarah pouted.

"Yes, well," Fiona shrugged. "Even if a human could do it, they wouldn't listen."

"Oh, I know," Sarah sighed. "But I just hope none of them get out," she said shuddering causing the ceramic mugs to clang. "Would you like some tea?" Sarah asked the men when Fiona took the tray from her.

"Yes please," Lucian said smiling to the old woman.

"One lump or two?"

"One, please."

"And you?" Sarah asked Sabin.

"One, please."

As Sarah poured out the tea, Sabin had a question. "How is it you came to live among fairies?"

"Fiona and Umhala helped out at a local church offering up their services. One day, I slipped up while talking to Fiona and Umhala; of course they were disguised as two little old ladies at the time. Next thing I knew, those two same old ladies came to my house when my husband was away at work and offered their services in helping to clean my home. At first, I tried to deny them, but they forced their way in and began to clean. That was a fun day. We blasted the radio, danced, and had such a wonderful time," Sarah beamed with delight at the memory as she handed the men their mugs. "But, like all good things, it came to an end when my ex came home early and started shouting about the volume. Needless to say, I had to escort the old ladies out. But, they didn't go very far. Next time I went to the church the little old ladies kept telling me they were sorry and just wanted to help. I tried to tell them that it wasn't their fault, but," Sarah shrugged. "A few months later, I'm in the hospital with a three broken ribs, a fractured humerus, a dislocated shoulder, and a few stab wounds," a very audible growl greeted the description, only getting louder with every new symptom. "Yes, I agree," Sarah nodded, noting that the growls were coming from the men. "But, at the time I thought I loved him and disserved what he was doing to me. Once I got home a week later, the same two old women came to my house and forced their way past my ex. He actually tried to slap them around as he did me, but they laid him flat on his ass and told me and the kids to get what we could carry and to get the car. Haven't looked back since," Sarah beamed at the memory.

"You missed my favorite part," Fiona said handing Umhala a mug of tea.

"Oh? And what part is that?"

"The part where after you and the kids were out of the house, the two old ladies turned into vicious demons from Hell and told the man that if he followed or called the cops, they would hunt him down, castrate him, and feed him his own balls, then his intestine," Fiona laughed.

"And how did you find out they're, not human?" Lucian asked Sarah.

"That would be Umhala's and my fault," Fiona said slumping her shoulders. "We uh, got really, really, drunk one Ostara Sabbat, um, Easter. We forgot that there were humans living with us. We stripped down to our birthday suits and went frolicking with our wings open and all that fun, fun stuff."

"Seriously?" Sabin asked raising an eyebrow.

"Yep," Fiona nodded. "The kids found us curled up in a clover grove in the morning and, well to say the least, we gained believers and freaked Sarah out a little."

"It was strange because I thought they were old women who held hearts of gold," Sarah laughed. "I never expected them to be actual fairies."

"Aunt Fe! Aunt Uma!" Jason shouted as he ran to them.

"What!" Fiona shouted to the kid.

"You," Jason tried to breath out as he continued to run, "You," he said bending over trying to catch his breath when he reached them. "You have to come and see this," he smiled up at them with such mischievous joy on his face that Fiona wondered what he had done now.

_What is it?_ Umhala asked handing her sister her mug.

"I did it," Jason beamed as he stood up to his full height.

_That's wonderful, but what did you do?_

"Yes, what did you," Fiona started to ask till their morning conversation dawned on her. "You're black light thing?"

"Yes," Jason said striking the superman pose. "I am a genius. You may now bow down and kiss my feet, peasants."

"Uh, no," Fiona said shaking her head. "After we see it, then maybe," she informed her godson. "Do you wish to bask in his glory?" Fiona asked the Lords.

"What did he do?" Lucian asked raising a brow to the kid.

"Jason here," Fiona said as she stood next to her godson and slapped him on his back, "is the only one of Sarah's bunch who has an eye for color. Actually, most of our new color schemes are his fault."

"Hay!"

"What? I was paying you a complement."

"You didn't have to say it like you hated it," Jason pouted as he slumped out of his former pose.

"Will you stop it with the puppy dog eyes and poses! Go," Fiona commanded turning Jason around. "Lead the way, o' master of color."

Jason grinned as he led the group to the office. On the way, Sarah took the mugs and returned them to the kitchen, claiming she could see it later. Walking into the office space, Fiona noticed that all her papers were off her desk and lined up in a stack on one side and a lamp was positioned over a wad of slightly yellow tinted yarn.

"Let the rave begin," Jason said rubbing his hands together. "Could you get the lights?" he asked no one in particular.

Umhala moved to get the lights since the Lords, who were in the back, didn't know where the switch was. When it was off Jason turned the lamp on. In the darkness, there shined a bright canary yellow ball of fuzz.

"Woho," Fiona commented sarcastically. "You made yellow."

"How did you get it to do that?" Sabin asked reaching out to touch the glowing ball.

"Oh," Jason shrugged nonchalantly. "A little bit of water, a little bit of vinegar, and a whole lot of Syrian rue."

"Which you already knew glowed under black light," Fiona said very unimpressed as she crossed her arms under her chest.

"Ah, but check this out," Jason smiled as he opened up one of the drawers and removed what he really wanted to show them. Placing it under the black light, the wad shined and shimmered in a rainbow of colors that ranged from red to blue and every color in between.

There was a very audible intake of breath as Umhala's hand went to her mouth.

"Now, I am thoroughly impressed," Fiona admitted as she leaned into the table. "How did you do it?"

"Oh no," Jason said crossing his arms over his chest. "First I want you to say it."

"Do I have to," Fiona whined as she stood up to look at him in the dimly lit room.

"Oh yeah," Jason beamed.

"Uh," Fiona moaned throwing her head back. "You are an almighty god with color. All must bow to the great and powerful Jason McFey. Please allow me to be the first to kiss your feet," Fiona spurted out not really feeling what she was saying. "Will you tell me now?"

"No," Jason said shaking his head. "I wish to bask in this a little longer."

"Remind me why I keep you around," Fiona growled.

"Because you love me," Jason smiled.

"Maybe I should rectify that."

"What color is it under normal light?" Lucian asked the glory happy man.

"It's as white as newly fallen snow," Jason boasted.


	8. Chapter 8

After emptying the clips at the swatches, Sabin had made up his mind that he was going to use these fairies in their war. If their cloth could do half of what they claimed, they would have the edge in the next battle against the Hunters. It would cut down on _their_ causalities, greatly. Reyes wouldn't like it, but he would still want one made for his Danika. That was acceptable, since Sabin also knew Maddox would want to protect Ashlyn and their unborn children, as well as the other Lords and their mates. So, after surveying Weaver's Hall for any signs of Hunters, _just in case_ he told himself, he found himself actually interested in how they were able to take the silk and turn it into cloth.

At every new station, Fiona and Umhala would ask if Sabin or Lucian wished to give it a try. Each time they had kindly declined. Too engrained in their minds was that sewing was a woman's job. Theirs was to kill. But, they did watch as the women showed them how it worked. It was, fascinating. Especially when it was done.

Heading back into to the office after getting the Lot-U binder form the kitchen, Fiona showed them every sample she and Umhala had created over the centuries, as well as reproductions of those they did preRI, they titled them. The office's walls were lined with books, folders, papers, pens, pencils, it was overwhelming, but Fiona and Umhala knew every square inch of the office and found what they were looking for in seconds.

While they were looking over some of the older samples, Lucian had to excuse himself. Sabin knew that souls were calling him, but Lucian said that he needed to get the samples to the others and show them their new toys. Sabin knew he would do it. But by the gods, he wanted to see the looks on his friends faces as they unloaded all they had on the 4x4 inch cloth swatches. Would they react the same way he and Lucian had? Probably. Then he wondered if Gwen's harpy side would try to take a stab at it. How would it hold up to that kind of punishment?

Sabin smiled to himself. If it could take her dishing out everything she had, there was no stopping them.

"Did you see something you like?" Fiona's voice cut in. She was the only other person in the room now. Umhala had excused herself to help Jason reproduce the beautiful, what had they called it? Roving? Nest? Something like that. So now Fiona sat on the opposite side of the table watching Sabin as he flipped page after page of all their works spanning from simple to complex, from plain to exquisite.

"No," Sabin said shaking his head as he flipped the plastic sheet. "I was just wondering about something."

"What?" Fiona asked as she tilted her head to the side.

Sabin noticed she did that a lot then she was thinking or curious. "How well the fabric would hold up against a harpy."

"Um," Fiona said as she placed a long graceful finger on her lips and tapped. "Harpy, harpy, harpy," she chanted as she stood and went to the wall of books and took one out. The title read _Greek Mythology for Dummies._ Flipping to the index, she looked up what Sabin mentioned. Flipping to the right page, she began to read, "_In Greek mythology, a harpy was one of the winged spirits best known for constantly stealing food from Phineas. The literal meaning of the word seems to be 'that which snatches' as it comes from the ancient Greek word harpazein which means 'to snatch.'_" Fiona tilted her head again. "They're not very pretty," she noted tilting her head the other way.

On reflex Sabin growled deep in his throat. "They don't really look like that."

"Oh?" Fiona said in surprise as she took her seat again. "What do they look like?" she asked in genuine curiosity.

"Us," Sabin said with just a hint of growl in his throat.

"Really?" Fiona asked as she looked at the picture again. "Do they still retain their wings? I mean do they come out and go back in like mine, or do they stay out all the time? Oh, what about their claws? Do they stay like claws or do they shift? Can they transform to look like the picture or do they always stay in human form?" Fiona asked with her excitement gaining in speed with every word out of her mouth.

Sabin grinned at the girl's excitement. "They look like us, their wings come and go, and their claws elongate. I can say, I have yet to see them transform into that," he said placing a finger on the hideous picture of a half eagle half woman harpy. Gwen never looked like that. She was a fierce shining cherub.

"Do you have one in your unit?" Fiona asked with delight seeping from her silver eyes.

Sabin shrugged. "We have a few." And damn, were Gwen and her sisters a bonus to have on their side.

"Really?" Fiona beamed in delight. "Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh," she said as she flipped through her book. "What about a chimaera, echidna, sirens, nymphs, oh, Pegasus!"

Sabin raised a brow at the girl. "Why do you want to know?"

_She could be probing you for information_. Doubt chimed in. _She could be working for the Hunters._

_Shut up. _Sabin demanded of his demon. _We have yet to see any signs that they are working for them._

_But they could be communicating. She could be Bait._

_I told you to shut up. _Sabin growled at the demon. _Do you want me to call Gwen?_

A panicked shriek shut the demon up as he receded back into his cage.

"Because," Fiona smiled. "I've always wanted to see one of your mystical creatures. Grandmother kept Umhala and I on a tight string and wouldn't let us out when the Romans invaded. When we finally got out, we came here. We keep in touch with her, but she's still pissed at us. Umhala says that she does it because she misses mother and we remind her of her. Umhala got mother's quick wit and brains. I got her innate aptitude for making and designing cloth. Actually, before you came here, Umhala and I hadn't seen too many people, being, what have you, that are like us. We've run across a few pixies and leprechauns over the centuries, and a few from other pantheons. But, I've always wondered what yours was like."

"And how do you know I'm from a different pantheon?"

"When the Romans invaded they brought stories with them about fierce warriors that were possessed by demons! Later we learned that they were called the Lords of the Underworld. You are actually the main reason why most of the Fae fled into hiding. We feared you would come with the men and destroy us," Fiona said finally calming down. "When Umhala was taken, I was, lost. It wasn't until you returned her to me that my curiosity was rekindled," she smiled. "And with all the new technology, I was able to do more research than before," she said tapping the book on the table. "So, have you met any others from your pantheon?"

"I've meet some," Sabin said shrugging as he returned his attention to the plastic wrapped pages. "What does this one represent?" Sabin asked, changing the subject.

"Huh?" Fiona wondered as she tried to wrap her head around the subject change. "It's a butterfly," Fiona said tilting her head again with confusion plain on her face. "You like butterflies?"

"In a way," Sabin commented. "What does it represent?"

"Butterflies are a calm creature. They remind us to go with the flow and to do things at our own pace. It is a creature of self enlightenment, it reminds us to make a decision when we are ready to make it. Also, there is great strength in something so small and delicate," Fiona recited with a curious lilt to her voice. "Not something most warriors choose to look at."

Sabin nodded as he laughed inside. "What about the knot work? Any significants to it?"

"If I remember correctly, I made that one for a newborn babe, a century or so ago. Her mother wanted something to protect her child. So, the knot work is to encourage her inner strength, beauty, compassion, and health," Fiona said as she pointed to all the many symbols on the butterfly that were so intricately inlaid in the work, Sabin almost missed them.

"Did it work?" Sabin asked as he studied the image closer.

Fiona snorted. "Did it work?" she mocked. "Of course it did. You have heard of Calamity Jane haven't you?"

Sabin's jaw dropped. "You did this for that firecracker?"

Fiona shrugged. "Her family sheltered me for a couple weeks. To repay that kindness, I made this for her. Though, I think I over did it a bit," Fiona said sheepishly. "Just a wee bit though."

"I'd say you over did it to the extreme," Sabin said under his breath. "What about this one?" he asked as he turned the page to another design.

As Fiona went into more details on the interworkings of the artwork, Sabin started to wonder what kind of interlacings they would need. The spider silk on it's own was enough to stop bullets. What would she say if he showed her his brand? Would she be able to combine it with her people's beautiful knot works? Or would she just do the thing verbatim.

_It may not work. She may just be lying to you._ Doubt offered after a while.

Before Sabin could yell at the demon, his phone went off. Getting it out, he flipped it open. It was a text from Torin.

_Just thought you'd like to know. Lucian came by and dropped something off and dared Strider to destroy it using any method he could think of. Needless to say, Strider is out cold. The rest of the gang took a chance at it, no one has been successful yet. Gwen's harpy is not pleased._

Sabin burst into laughter, causing Fiona to shrink in on herself at the sudden sound.

"What, what's so funny?" the scared little fairy finally got out.

"You my dear girl, are my new favorite weapon," Sabin grinned wickedly.

"W-weapon?" Fiona asked tilting her head.


	9. Chapter 9

After Torin sent a text to Sabin, he watched the monitors as the Lords took their turns trying to destroy the spider silk swatches. They had shot at them, thrown grenades at them, taken knives to the fabric, even Gwen and her sisters' harpy claws couldn't scratch it. It was a wonderful material, he had to admit. The little fairies had given them twenty 4x4 inch swatches to play with. That was more than enough for everyone to have a chance with. Torin's was sitting beside his keyboard as he did more research on how the fairies had produced it.

He had looked through so much information on weaving, he felt like he could do it in his sleep. What he couldn't figure out, was how they got the damn spiders to spin the threads for them. Spiders were territorial by nature and would not allow for another to be in it's general facility without killing and eating it, unless it was mating season. So how had they gotten so much silk in so little time?

His search on Habetrot was still no help. Though, it did say that spiders first used her hair to weave their webs. Did that have something to do with it? Was it their hair? Was it a skill that only the Fae possessed? Athena was said to have turned Arachne in to a spider. But neither of them used the silk to weave. Well, before Arachne became a spider.

Torin felt the electricity of power serge through his room and up his spine.

"Report, Disease," Cronus, King of the Gods demanded.

A while ago, the Titan King decided to honor the Lords with a gift. The intricate little butterfly necklaces protected them from prying godly eyes. The only drawback, even Cronus himself couldn't check in on them. So, they had to agree to nightly visits from the old Titan and report their findings. Oh how he hated these visits. Because Torin was the only one who couldn't leave the fortress without sever consequences, like say, starting up another Black Plague, the God king would come and visit him for the information.

Without looking at Cronus, Torin told him what was happening. "There have been some Hunter sightings in the city, but those have been taken care of."

A very loud BOOM shook the foundation of the fortress. Torin cursed at his friends timing.

"What was that?" Cronus demanded.

Torin shrugged. "The guys are testing a new toy Lucian brought home." The less the God King knew the better. No way was he going to put the McFey family on Cronus' raider until he had conformation from Sabin and Lucian.

"What toy?" the God King asked as he moved closer to Torin, his power trying to crush him.

"Humans developed a new fiber compound that is lighter and stronger than Kevlar. They're seeing if it holds up to our standards," Torin partly lied, still not wanting to look at the God King. It was always the little things he could do to annoy the Titan that pleased him most.

"And _how_ is it, holding up?" Cronus asked, with genuine curiosity Torin thought.

"Better than we expected," Torin smiled as he watched Cameo head to the new hole in the ground and pick the still whole swatch up. "We still haven't been able to find a weakness with it."

"And who produces it?"

_What was the name of that company?_ Torin yelled at himself for getting caught in a lie. "Sinoarmor," he replied smoothly as the name finally sank home. That was one of the names he had read about. Hopefully, the Titan would not investigate on his own. If he did, Torin was screwed.

"I wish to see this, toy," Cronus demanded of Torin.

Still not looking at the reversibly ageing god, he picked up his slightly translucent, silver swatch and handed it to the God King.

The moment the little piece of fabric left Torin's gloved hand, Cronus started to growl. "Where did you get this!"

_Tell the truth or keep lying?_ "Like I said, Lucian brought it home," Torin managed to get out without a hitch. _There, truth…mostly_.

"Do you know what this is?" the king asked still with a growl to his tone.

_Yes, and the fact that you do as well makes me curious_. "It's our new defense against Hunter attacks."

"Where did you acquire it," not a question but a demand. _Interesting_.

"Paris gave me that one."

"One? How many do you possess?"

"Me? Just the one. In total, twenty. Why?" Torin asked, finally looking upon the god. "What is it really?"

"This is spider silk. I know of only two beings that could have produced this," Cronus said as his irises were engulfed in black.

"And who would they be?" Torin asked, seriously curious if the God King could give him information on Fiona and Umhala, or on their grandmother.

"Women of the Fae," Cronus said with hatred seeping through every word he spoke.

Point to the sisters. "And they would be?"

"Enough of your questions!" the God Kind demanded as he threw the spider silk back at Torin. "Never allow me to catch you with _that_ again," the king demanded. "You have filled your end of the bargain. I will go." And with that, the power and the god left Torin's room.

"Come back any time," Torin commented to the now empty room as he turned back to view his monitors.

_So, Mr. Greedy knows who can make it. He won't tell me, but he apparently hates who can. Wonder what else this little thing can do that pisses him off so much?_ Torin wondered as he picked up the silk and examined it again.

The texture was soft, or so he thought. He didn't dare take his gloves off to see if it was as soft as he thought it might be. It was as light as a feather, but strong enough to take on a harpy without being ripped to pieces. It was flexible, but held a rigid shape. If you held it just right, you could see right through it. At another angle, it looked like someone had made it out of silver. Magnificence didn't even begin to describe the little piece of cloth.

"How do they like the presents?" Lucian asked with a smile on his twisted face after popping in.

"Does no one use a door anymore?" Torin asked his friend as he turned.

"Cronus?" Lucian asked propping a hip on the desk to watch how the others faired with the, toys.

"Yeah," Torin nodded. "He knows something about these," he said holding up his piece of cloth to emphasize what he was talking about. "He claims that he knows who can make them. Also, he doesn't like whoever it is or the cloth in general."

"Really?"

"Really. He practically threatened to cut off my head if he saw it again anywhere near me."

"Could he be referring to the women in the states or the grandmother?"

"He said that he knew of only _two_ _Faes_ who could do it. I would say the sisters, but they weren't around before he was imprisoned in Tartarus. My guess, the grandmother and someone else."

Lucian wondered over the possibilities as he watched Anya throw her thunderstorm at the fabric. "She can't get it to crack?" Lucian asked as he traced a finger along his mate's face.

"No," Torin said shaking his head. "Not even Kane can seem to fray it. Any idea on how they made it?"

"Yes," Lucian said. "They went over the process of taking the raw material and turning it into cloth."

"They didn't happen to explain how they got the spider to provide them with the silk, did they?"

Lucian shook his head. "They said it was a trade secret," he scoffed. "I can understand why they would want to keep that secret, but I don't like it."

"Like you weren't keeping things from them?" Torin teased knowing that they had, regardless of the situation.

"True."

"So, they want to give us this undestroyable material, just for saving the girl?" Torin asked after a moment of silence.

There was another ground shaking boom as William threw a superman looking grenade into the new testing ground.

"That's what they claim," Lucian said as he watched William scramble to find the cloth. When he found it still whole, he started to curse. "Have they been doing this the whole time?"

"Yes," Torin nodded. "After Strider passed out, they have been going at it full force."

Lucian turned a surprised face to his comrade. "He passed out?"

"Yes," Torin laughed. "He wanted to use a nuke, but I told him no."

Both Lucian's and Torin's phones started to buzz. It was a text from Strider.

_Meeting in one hour. Drop whatever you're doing and be ready._

"I guess that means I have to go and get him," Lucian sighed as he replaced his phone.


	10. Chapter 10

As soon as Sabin stood from his chair and raised his shirt, Fiona started to panic.

_They have been known to rape unsuspecting women. _Her grandmother's voice rang through her head.

"This," Sabin said pointing to a beautiful butterfly tattoo on his hip just above his groin, "is what we want the pattern to be."

As Fiona looked the design over, she started to understand why he seemed so interested in the other butterflies she had made. Absently, she reached out to touch it, only to find herself and retract her hand. "You want _that_ exactly?" Fiona managed to get out in a calm and even tone.

"Actually, if you would like to embellish it, I doubt the others would mind."

"Alright," Fiona nodded, still entranced by the butterfly. "Just," she said as she stood up and headed to a wall filled with papers, "don't move."

Grabbing a sheet of tracing paper and a soft pencil, she made her way back to Sabin, who hadn't moved. Kneeling down she placed the paper against his skin and proceeded to outline the oddly positioned tattoo. His skin was warm under her hand. And very, very taught. _Are all the Lords built like him?_ She found herself wondering. "How did you come to acquire this?" Fiona asked after getting most of it on the paper.

Sabin let out a sigh. "First, I need to know something."

"Sure," Fiona immediately supplied with a shrug.

"Have you or _are_ you working for Hunters?" Sabin asked looking down at her demanding nothing but the truth from her.

"The men who stole my sister?" Fiona growled up at Sabin with hatred in her eyes as her knuckles went white from gripping the pencil to the point of breaking.

"Yes," Sabin nodded.

"I would rather kill them then work for _or_ with them," Fiona growled as she went back to tracing, much harder this time.

"Ouch," Sabin said moving away from the angry fairy as she accidently ripped through the thin sheet of paper and into him.

"Sorry," Fiona half shouted as she removed her hands from him. "I'm really sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. Are you okay? I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," Sabin said shaking his head. "It's just a little nick. Don't worry about it."

"I'm sorry," Fiona said sadly as she stood up. "I, have most of it done. I'll just, fill in the rest," she said as she moved back to her side of the desk.

"It's the mark of our curse," Sabin said after he lowered his shirt back onto his body and sat in his chair.

"Huh?" Fiona asked absently still working on her new design shifting the paper this way and that.

"You asked how I got the mark. It's the symbol of a Dark Lord," Sabin said propping his arm on the desk to cradle his head in his palm.

"Oh, right." She had asked that hadn't she? "Why a butterfly?" She asked looking up at Sabin.

Sabin shrugged. "The gods wanted to demasculinize us, I would assume."

Fiona smiled as she went back to solidifying the lines she had made. "For a warrior I would think that too. But we have male fairies that pride themselves on what they are."

"Yes, but they were _born_ fairies. We were born warriors," Sabin said as he watched Fiona work her magic over the lines she made.

"True. But again, some of our best …" Fiona paused as she lifted her head and tapped the pencil on her lips. "Now that I think about it, none of them have butterflies on their banners. Their wings yes, but not the whole thing. Huh. Aw well," Fiona shrugged and went back to work. "So, do all of you have them in the same location?"

"No," Sabin said shaking his head.

"Can I ask," Fiona wondered lifting her gaze from her work to look at the man. "What demon possesses you?"

_He might be lying to you. He might want to kill you and your family. He is a Lord of the Underworld, there is no telling why he's really here. Your designs bring pain and sorrow to those who use them. _A voice whispered through Fiona's mind. Sucking in air, she tried not to cry.

"Doubt," Sabin said with a mischievous grin on his face.

"P-please tell me that was you," Fiona chocked through.

When Sabin nodded, some of the panic left Fiona. "Can all of you do that?" Fiona wanted to know, because if they could, she didn't know what she was going to do.

Sabin shook his head causing more of the panic to leave and disperse from Fiona.

"Do, do you mind if I ask how you were possessed?"

"I let my pride get the best of me," Sabin explained very vaguely as he shrugged. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Fiona nodded as she went back to work.

"How old are you?"

"Um," Fiona thought tilting her head as she continued to work. "Let's see, RI was two thousand years ago. I was in Scotland a thousand and a half before that. So, three thousand five hundred and forty three? Give or take a little. After the first thousand I stopped counting."

"How old is your sister?"

"Um, about a two thousand older than I am," Fiona said lifting her head to get a better view of the design. "We'll put this here, and this, here," she commented to herself.

"Why did Sarah think you and Umhala were old women when she first met you?"

"We glamoured our appearance," Fiona said, not catching that she was talking while her mind was on her work.

"Can all fairies do that?"

"Yes," Fiona nodded. "No, that's not right," she said reaching for an eraser to undo her mistake.

"How do you get the spiders to spin for you?"

"We s…," Fiona stopped mid stroke and glared up at Sabin. "You're a tricky one," she said pointing her pencil at him. "I'm not talking to you anymore."

Sabin's grin got wider at being caught. "Can you blame me for being curious?"

"No," Fiona said shaking her head. "Still not cool that you figured out how to pry info from me."

Sabin shrugged. "So, what are you adding to that?" he asked pointing to the design with his chin.

Fiona shrugged. "Warrior knots mostly. A few protection symbols. Also, some healing ones for kicks and giggles."

"Why 'kicks and giggles?'" Sabin asked raising a brow.

"Because you're immortal. So it's kind of funny," Fiona softly laughed. "So?" Fiona asked as she spun the paper around to let Sabin see her work. "What do you think?"

"It's," Sabin tried. "You sure you can weave this?" he asked.

"Can I weave that?" Fiona mocked. "I think you and Doubt need to have a conversation about how I know my trade, and if I say I can do it, I bloody well can," Fiona said gaining the back bone she thought she had lost.

Sabin grinned at the fairy and her new found spine in his presents.

"Now," Fiona said sitting straighter in her chair. "What color do you want the fabric and design in?"

"Black," Sabin said without thinking.

"You want the, pattern in black as well, or just overall?"

"Overall. You can do whatever color you want the pattern in. Just," Sabin said thinking better on that idea. "No pinks."

"Awwww," Fiona whined. "But, I think you would look cute in pink," she smiled so mischievously it caused a slight laugh from Sabin. "Here," Fiona said taking the paper back.

Reaching into a cup filled with colored pencils, she reached in and grabbed a black and a crimson red. Just as she was going to start coloring, she thought better of that action and walked back to the wall of paper and got another piece of transfer paper. Setting it on top, she began to color wildly at first then more intricately.

"How about that?" Fiona asked when she was done and slid the paper back to Sabin. The outsides of the paper, where the fabric would be, was colored black. The outline of the butterfly was visible in the crimson while it's hidden inner designs were also in black.

"It looks like it's been covered in blood," Sabin commented as he grinned at the thought. The design reminded him of spilling Hunter's blood. Lots and lots of it.

"Huh, I guess it kind of does," Fiona noted as she turned her head this way and that to see the image.

"So now that this is done, what else do you need?"

"Just everyone's measurements and the vials of blood," Fiona said making a mental check list.

"How long would it take you to get everything set and ready to go?" Sabin asked as his excitement started to make an upward climb.

"Considering I'm hungry and need fuel," Fiona said placing a hand on her stomach. "About an hour?"

Sabin nodded as he took out his phone and proceeded to type.

* * *

Okay, Capter Ten is done! Now I just need to get the rest of it out of my head for you. ^_^ Oh, PLEASE leave a comment if you like this so far. ^_^ The lack of communication is making me feel like a weirdo for writing this. *_*


	11. Chapter 11

I got my first comment! I love you Stinepiiig! You made my day. I just wanted you to know that. ^_^ Also, Kudoes to those who keep adding this story to their alert list, I love you too. ^_^

Yeah, that's enough of my giddiness. You're here to read the story, not my happy time.

* * *

Fiona went through her office, grabbing four boxes of small vials that they used for dried herbs and small dye batches, a box of larger vials, a pencil and pen pouch, as well as her tape measure. Placing the items on her desk, she grabbed the design she had just finished and made photo copies for Umhala to review. Putting the original in her _Greek Mythology for Dummies_ book, she stored another copy in a notebook she had grabbed for taking measurements. With Sabin's help, they made their way to the kitchen where the smells of cooking meat and breads enveloped the whole house.

"I take it, you're going to collect the measurements finally?" Sarah asked after she turned to the sounds of footsteps entering the kitchen, noting the supplies in Fiona and Sabin's arms.

Fiona nodded as she placed her package on the table. "They want it done quickly, and I'm eager to get started," she smiled.

"You," Sarah said pointing the stirring spoon she had been using at Sabin, "take care of our Fiona. If I hear she was harmed in your care, I don't know what I'll do, but you won't like it. _That_, I guarantee."

"Yes ma'am," Sabin nodded. "You have my word." Fiona noted that he was trying hard not to smile as he agreed to the older and frailer woman's demand with a bow.

"Good," Sarah nodded. "Now, both of you take a seat. I need a taste test for a stew recipe I found."

"Yes, grandma," Fiona teased as she took out a chair and sat down. "So what kind of stew are we having today?"

"Tomas gave us the most gorgeous lamb meat I've ever come across. So I'm trying a traditional Irish Stew," Sarah beamed with pride.

"Great," Fiona moaned with a fake smile as she shivered internally. She had grown up on lamb stew. Yes, it was tasty, but never had she wanted to eat it again. Give her beef, pork, poultry, or rabbit and she would have been happier; at least now she knew why the house smelled atrocious. But, Sarah was the kitchen chef. If she said lamb, it was lamb.

"Don't give me that," Sarah said eyeing Fiona over her shoulder. "I know you hate lamb, but the kids said they had a craving for it. Since they don't eat lamb very often, you can suffer for a while."

"Oh how nice you are," Fiona moaned as she leaned over the table and cradled her head in her arms. "We should give you the 'Wicked Witch of the West' award. You know that right?"

"Only if I get to keep the flying monkeys," Sarah laughed as she moved to get two bowls down from the cabinet.

"Sure you can keep 'em," Fiona shrugged. "Don't know where you'll put them though."

"Oh, that's easy," Sarah said filling one of the bowls. "We'll put them in your room."

Fiona's mouth flapped open and closed for a moment at the woman's audacity. "You old crone," she finally got out with just a hint of a growl.

"Not as old as you," Sarah smiled as she placed a bowl and spoon in front of Fiona and Sabin.

Fiona growled low as she sat up, picked up the spoon to shovel the stew into her mouth. As soon as it hit her tongue and the roof of her mouth, she wanted to spit it back out. It was too hot and she burned half of her taste buds. Instead, she swallowed mournfully as it scorched it's way through her body. Remembering to blow on the next spoonful, she set to work on eating her lunch.

"Oh, Fiona," Sarah said as she took a batch of freshly baked, golden brown rolls out of the oven. "You might want to change out of your pajamas before you go."

"Huh?" Fiona asked as she blew on her next mouthful. Looking down, heat rose to her cheeks. She was still wearing her white spaghetti, baby blue pajama bottoms, and her house shoes. How on Earth did she not realize she was still wearing _that_ when the Lords showed up? "Cac!" Fiona screamed as she dropped the spoon and flew for the door. Almost slipping on the hardwood floor, she ran to the stairs. She thought she heard Sarah and Sabin laughing as she hit the second step, but didn't care.

Almost crashing through her bedroom door, she entered into her mostly empty room. It had very little furnishings. There was a full sized, four post bed that got all the morning sun, a roll top desk that housed her laptop as well as a chair, and a stereo complete with her "secret stash" of vinyls, eight tracks, casket tapes, and CDs. In front of the stereo were two gigantic bean bag chairs in psychedelic colors with a pair of headphones lying in one. There were only three doors once you entered the small but tall room. One went back into the hall, one into a walk-in closet, and one to a bathroom. Fiona beelined it to the closet.

From the left side of the closet, she grabbed a change of underwear and matching bra from a dresser. Then a pair of light blue, hip hugging, boot cut jeans from their hanger. On the other wall she grabbed a long electric blue camouflage t-shirt and a pair of ankle socks. Putting her bundle on a small bench she kept in her closet against the back wall, she stripped and redressed. Throwing her jamies in a hamper positioned by the bench, she went over what she was missing.

"Undies, check. Socks, shirt, and pants. Triple check. What am I missing? What am I missing?" Fiona asked as she looked her closet over. "Shoes," she remembered. Making her way to her closet door, she grabbed a pair of blue camo chucks and strapped them to her feet. "What else, what else, what else?" Fiona wondered as she tapped a finger on her lips.

Looking to the top of her closet, she spotted an old oak box covered in knot work. Getting the long heavy box down off it's shelf, she placed it on the bench. Lifting the lid, she came to one of her grandmother's never fading cloths guarding what she was looking for. Untying the knot, she unfolded the cloth to reveal her weaver's belt and gown. The belt was made of leather that held the eight phases of the moon done in sterling silver. The full moon, which was also the buckle, was outlined in knot work as it's center held a spider weaving her web. Fiona traced the spider and her many legs before she lifted the long unused belt and placed it over her hips. Closing up the box and replacing it, she left her closet and looked at herself in her full length mirror that was set into the wood of the door.

Again, she noted that her hair was too black and straight, her eyes too almond shaped and too silver to be anything but supernatural. Her cheek bones too high and her skin looked too much like poured milk. Her frame was too small with just barely enough meat on it. The only true assets she possessed was her bosom and rump.

"I am the spitting image of Caillech," Fiona moaned as she slumped her shoulders. _Why can't I be more like my sister?_ Fiona wondered for the zillionth time. Umhala resembled the sun on a clear day, Fiona the moon in her full glory. The only thing they seemed to share in common was a constant pouty lower lip from spinning. Fiona sighed again as she turned form the mirror and headed back downstairs to finish eating.

When Fiona entered the kitchen, Sarah was the only one in the room.

"Where's Sabin?" Fiona asked as she grabbed her cooled bowl of lamb stew and gobbled it down.

"Lucian came and got him," Sarah informed the fairy as she continued to kneed another batch of dough. "Something about needing to calm his friends down?"

Fiona squeaked. _Are they mad at me? Did they not like the samples we made? _

"Oh, don't worry," Sarah said smiling over at Fiona with flower on her face. "Lucian was laughing as he was talking to Sabin."

Fiona couldn't help but smile at seeing the old woman covered in flower. Trying not to choke on the last of her stew she walked over to the sink and placed her bowl inside. "Any idea when they'll be back?"

"Lucian said, five minutes," Sarah informed Fiona as she took up a knife and separated out the dough.

"Alright," Fiona nodded.

Walking through the kitchen, she went to the pantry and took one of the Go-Green bags from a hook. It was blue with butterflies over a field of daisies. _Maggie_, Fiona thought, as she traced a butterfly and smiled. While Jason was a wiz with color, Maggie excelled in pattern making. Charlie…not so much a weaver at heart. What he could do, was work a computer and numbers. He was an accountant by trade and did taxes on the on-season. Umhala and Fiona tried to teach Sarah how to weave, but she preferred to keep the house and home running in tip-top-shape. And by the gods, she did.

Walking back to the table, she filled her bag with the supplies she was going to need. When the bag was packed, she still felt that _missing_ feeling.

"What am I missing?" Fiona asked herself as she tapped a finger on her lips.

Umhala walked in the kitchen and snapped her fingers.

Fiona and Sarah both turned to the older pregnant fairy. In her hand was a small spruce wood box colored in bright red, green, and yellow knot work. Smiling she walked over to Fiona and handed her the box.

_You almost forgot this in the office._ Umhala signed.

"This _is_ what I was forgetting," Fiona nodded. "Thank you."

_You are welcome Weft._ Umhala smiled. _Now remember to wear that belt with pride._

"I will," Fiona beamed as she embraced her sister. Letting go of her sister she knelt down and placed a kiss on the growing child. "Stay warm," Fiona whispered as she stroked her sister's belly.

Standing back up, she headed over to the table and placed the ancient box into her bag. The moment she took her hand back, Lucian popped into the kitchen.

"Are you ready?" he asked scaring everyone in the room.

Fiona spun to see the taller man with his mitched matched eyes of blue and brown. "I think so," she smiled as she tried to hide her panicking heartbeat.

"Good," Lucian said as he strolled over to Fiona and placed a hand upon her shoulder. "Then let's go."

Clutching to the bag, Fiona felt herself slip from one plain of existence to another. Before she could become accustomed to the cold and dark, she was enveloped in light.

* * *

Again, I love you and thanks for the comment. Keep 'em comming.


	12. Chapter 12

Fiona blinked in the brighter lights. The kitchen was well lit, but this was ridiculous. It was like they were trying to compete with the sun in luminosity.

"Everyone," Sabin said from the right side of Fiona, who was standing behind a pool table that looked out to a sea of people. "This is Fiona McFey. She is the sister to one of the women we rescued in Egypt."

Still trying to gain her bearings, Fiona looked around the room and immediately wanted to go back home. _Nineteen my prize winning ass!_ Fiona yelled at Sabin and Lucian mentally. There were more than twenty people in the large room sitting on couches, chairs, and some that were forced to stand as she was. Some of them had slightly angry faces that were all pinned on her, while others were looking to her with sympathy.

_I'm here for Umhala. I'm here to make sure another Umhala is returned home._ Fiona repeated as she gulped and tried to smile at the people in the room. "H-hi," Fiona managed to get out with just a bit of a squeak as she waved to the crowd.

"You're the one that made this?" a woman with dark hair and black eyes asked holding up one of the swatches. She was sitting on a sofa next to a man with bright blue hair and facial piercings.

Fiona nodded, not wanting to squeak again. _They are not monsters. They are _not_ monsters,_ she had to remind herself as she continued to look upon the crowd at all the oversized, lethal, Chip and Dale models in the room.

"How?" a man on the other side of the room asked. He was tall with bright blue eyes and golden blond hair.

"Um, we gather the silk, comb it to separate out the long fibers form the short ones; it also helps to reline them. Then we," Fiona said twitting with her fingers as she looked to the man.

"Not the _whole_ process," the man said grinning. "How do you get the," the man paused as he looked over to the blue haired man. "Mosquitoes, to supply you with their thread? This stuff is awesome!" the man congratulated with a smile. "We threw everything at it and still it stands. I want all my clothes made of this."

"Mo-squi-toes?" Fiona repeated tilting her head to the side. "Mosquitoes don't spin silk, _spiders_ do," she said plainly confused.

"WHAT!" the blue haired pierced man demanded as he stood off the arm of the chair and glared at Sabin. "Mosquitoes? Yes, I want one!" the man shouted in horror.

"Thanks William," Sabin moaned under his breath. "Gideon, would you rather be charred beyond recognition _again_?" he asked of his comrade.

_What is going on? Didn't he just agree to it? _Fiona wondered to herself.

"No. No I wouldn't!" the man said nodding his head rapidly.

_I'm confused. Why is he saying no, but nodding?_

"Regardless, you're getting one," Sabin told the man gesturing for him to sit back down. When the man did, reluctantly, Sabin readdressed the room. "She needs all of our measurements and some blood…"

"That's it?" a blond with green eyes, sitting next to a man dressed all in black with dark hair and sun kissed skin, asked.

"Yes," Sabin nodded.

"What is the blood for?" a woman with black hair and silver eyes asked in a voice so depressing that the whole room cringed at hearing it.

"A, a contract," Fiona whispered clenching her heart.

Sabin looked to the small woman and nodded. "Fiona and her sister, Umhala, are going to write up a contract that will bind their work to us."

"I'm in!" a gorgeous woman with dark hair who was standing next to William beamed in delight as she raised her arm over her head. "How much do you need?" she asked offering up her wrists.

"N-not much," Fiona said shaking her head as she placed her bag upon the pool table and removed some of her items. Getting out the box containing the larger vials, "Open," she demanded of the pull tab. "I need three drops, _exactly_, in this one," she said placing one of the four vials on the table then moving on to the box with the smaller vials. Again she had trouble getting her shaking fingers to obey her with the pull tab. "And, if you can, fill this one up half way," Fiona said placing the smaller vial beside the larger one. "We won't need that much, but just in case you need a replacement, we won't have to prick your fingers again."

"Did you infuse these," a man with hair of browns, blacks, and golds, asked showing his swatch, "with your blood?" As soon as the last word left his lips, a piece of the ceiling fell on his head.

"Gods! Are you okay?" Fiona shouted as she watched the horror land and hit the man on the crown of his head.

The man just shrugged and repeated his question.

"Are you _sure_ you're okay?" Fiona had to know.

"I'm fine. It happens all the time," he shrugged.

"A-all, the, time?" Fiona asked as her eyes tried to bug out of her head.

"Kane harbors the demon of Disaster," Sabin told Fiona wanting to calm her back down.

"D-disaster?" Fiona asked not looking to Sabin. "You poor man," she said in such woe just before she dug back into her bag and removed her note book. "Is it spelled with a K or a C?" she asked no one in particular.

"K," Kane offered.

"K-a-n-e," Fiona spelled out as she wrote on the first page. "Add, hood," she said then looked up to Disaster. "What was your…Oh, yeah. No, we didn't infuse the samples we gave you," Fiona said shaking her head.

"Then what _can_ destroy it?" a familiar voice asked with a ferial growl.

Fiona looked around the full room for the owner of that voice. "Sabin?" Fiona asked tilting her head at a blond haired blue eyed man. When he nodded, Fiona examined him more closely. The woman next to him growled at the inspection. "Huh, I thought you'd be, more, I don't know," Fiona said shaking her head. "Um, the one thing I _know_ that can cut through the cloth is something that has been forged using the seven basic elements."

"I thought there were only four?" a small woman with dark hair and a very largely rounded belly asked.

Fiona shook her head. "Most people think that, but there are seven. Well," Fiona corrected tilting her head again. "Actually there are eight, but we don't talk about that one," she said waving the issue aside.

"What are those elements," the man who was sitting next to the pregnant woman and holding her hand, asked.

"The ones she knows," Fiona said gesturing toward the pregnant woman, "are earth, air, fire, and water. The other three that people tend to forget about, are wood, metal, and lightning," Fiona explained ticking them all off on her fingers.

"They make weapons like that?" a tall man with brown-black hair and the purest blue eyes ever, asked standing next to a mousy looking woman.

Fiona nodded as she reached for the box Umhala had remembered to grab for her. Opening up the ancient box, Fiona took the dagger from it's velvet lined casing that they had recently added. "This, is one such weapon," she said as she unsheathed the dagger. "The handle and sheath were whittled form an oak tree that was struck by lightning. The dagger was forged in a fire that was kept temperate by air and plunged into a bucket of water. When it was done they buried it in the ground to solidify the spell that is woven through it," Fiona told the group as she caringly cradled the blade to her bosom. Remembering where she was and what she was supposed to be doing, she posed a question. "Does anyone have a swatch I can demonstrate on?"

The blue haired man, Gideon, threw his to the pool table where Sabin caught it and handed it to Fiona.

"Thank you," Fiona smiled to the blue man. Gently placing the dagger on the table, she folded the cloth in half at a diagonal. Picking the blade back up in her left hand, she inserted it in the fold, and with little force, was able to slice through the fabric. Intakes of breath, growls, and cheering were heard all around as they witnessed the fabric split.

"So how does the blood help?" a tall bald man who standing behind, _HOLY GODS! IS THAT AN ANGEL!_, asked after Fiona had placed the torn fabric and dagger on the table.

"The, the," Fiona tried to get out as she stared at the woman who had large pure white wings and was wearing a purer white gown. "Blood, counters most spells. Is she what I think she is?" Fiona asked still staring at the woman.

"Yes, I am," the beautiful burnet woman nodded her head with a smile. "What else would I be?"

"A figment of my overactive imagination?" Fiona asked herself as she passed a hand through her hair and tucking it behind her ear.

"What about bullets that can kill immortals?" the tall man next to the green eyed blond asked.

"Is he talking about the ones from the rivers of Hell?" Fiona asked looking up at Sabin. When Sabin nodded Fiona tried not to go into a full blown fit of laughter. "I recommend usquebaugh," she smiled. Everyone around the room looked puzzled by the response as Fiona laughed to herself.

"That's still _not_ funny," Lucian piped in as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm sorry," Fiona said shoving the laughter back down. "I still haven't had time to talk to Caillech, so I don't know if it will work or not. Sabin said that," Fiona shook her head not wanting to say, "usquebaugh" again, "the _Waters of Life_ counter it. If you have any, we could soak the cloth in it. Again, I don't know it if will work, but it's worth a try," she shrugged.

"We don't have any more," the angel said sadly as she looked to the floor. "We used all of it and cannot acquire any more."

"It's not that hard to make you know?" Fiona smiled, not wanting to see a sad and distressed angel. "All you need is a little barley, yeast, and a whole lot of water. Oh, and a distillery wouldn't be bad either."

The burnet angel looked confused as she tilted her head to the side and asked, "What are you talking about?"

"How to make _The Waters of Life_," Fiona started to laugh but cut it off before she could get started again. "You," Fiona started to explain, but was cut off.

"Do _not_ teach her how to make alcohol," the man behind her threatened with a low and mincing growl.

"Kay," Fiona squeaked as every muscle in her body tightened.

"Ignore him," the angel said patting her man's hands. "Tell me how to make it," she demanded eagerly.

Fiona shook her head violently from side to side. "No, thank you. I like where my head is. Thanks."

"But we want to know," another beautiful burnet piped in. She was standing next to a strawberry blond woman and another woman with black hair.

"Then wait until Olivia is out of the room," the bald man threatened the woman.

"You're no fun Aeron," the beautiful woman who was by William teased.


	13. Chapter 13

Torin was in his room as the others gathered in the entertainment room. With all the new people flocking to the fortress, there was no room for him to stand a safe distance away from anyone. Not that the new members of his family were a bad thing, quite the contrary. They provided stable anchors for his brothers that they were missing. So, not wanting to have another accidental outbreak, Torin stayed where it was safe.

He was watching and listening to the meeting on the monitors when Lucian flashed in with the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. With her long black hair that cascaded down her back to just above her full ample bottom, angular features, and elegantly tipped ears; she was even more beautiful than the photo he had found of her. She was so small and fragile standing beside his brothers even though she was about as tall as Gwen or Anya. And oh, when she spoke it was like listening to a nightingale sing.

_Butterfly,_ Disease purred in pleasure as he rubbed up against the sides of his cell as he too watched the woman that made Torin's blood boil and his skin feel like it was on fire.

It was all Torin could do to stay in his chair and not go down to the overcrowded room as Kane stepped forward with a grin on his face no woman could refuse. After the meet and greet, she had asked who wished to be measured first. That was when the floor under Kane decided to crack. Everyone shouted at once for him to go and get somewhere safer, not that there was such a place.

The arms of the chair groaned as Torin's grip tightened while he watched the lights above Fiona burst, dusting her in glass. "Odin's knickers," Fiona cursed as she shrank down and cover her head just in time. A growl escaped Disease as he watched the shower of glass cover the fairy.

_Infect_! Disease demanded of Torin. Torin was on the verge of agreeing with his demon when Kane offered a hand to help Fiona up. When she didn't take it, his temper cooled, a little.

"Question," Fiona asked as she looked up to Kane. "Is there a possibility that you are going to accidently break my tape measure? I ask, because I only brought the one."

That voice caressed Torin in a blanket as his pulse speed faster. He closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation.

"Old school it is then," Fiona moaned. "Just, don't break my hands, please."

Torin's eyes shot open as he saw Fiona take Kane's measurements with her hands. Torin and Disease both growled at their friend for allowing her to touch him. Torin wanted to beat the smug look off his friends face until there was nothing left of it but tattered skin and broken bones.

Out of his peripheral vision, Torin caught sight of two humans trying to climb the fence they had put in around the fortress a few months back. With an annoyed growl at the intruders, his fingers flew over the keyboard as he typed in a command, sending electricity through the fence. With a smile, he watched as the humans were paralyzed and fell off the fence on the other side. Disease laughed in success as Torin returned his gaze to the entertainment room.

Fiona was kneeling down and had her hands too close to Kane's groin as she placed hand over hand to get his inner leg measurements. The arms of the chair groaned with Torin as he tried not to storm into the room and kill his friend again.

"Alright, that's it," Fiona smiled at Disaster when she was through writing down his measurements in a notebook. "Now I just need your blood," she said as she leaned over the pool table, giving Torin an excellent view of her back side, and grabbed the larger vial she had placed there as well as her dagger. Popping the cork with her teeth, she reached her hand out to take Kane's. Torin growled again as Kane offered his hand freely with his smug smile still in place. "This may hurt," Fiona warned as she pricked Disaster's middle finger and allowed only three red drops to fall into the vial. Putting the dagger in her mouth, she used her free hand to stop the bleeding as she reached for the smaller vial. It had a hinge top, so it was easier for her to open. Placing the bottle under Kane's finger, she massaged the appendage to get the blood to flow again. When the vial was half full, she asked Kane to open his mouth. When he did, she stuck his finger in. "Saliva helps to coagulate the blood," she beamed at the confused Disaster as she turned and wrote his name on the vial.

_So she had noticed him checking her out, and didn't like it._ Torin thought as he and Disease laughed at the surprised warrior while also congratulating the fairies whit.

"I'm next!" Anya beamed as she made her way to Fiona.

"Alright," Fiona nodded. "Your name?" she asked as she placed the vial on the pool table.

"Anya, Goddess of Anarchy," Anya boasted as she nudged Kane out of the way.

"_Minor_ Goddess," William offered with a snear.

"An-ya," Fiona repeated as she turned to a clean page in her note book and wrote the name down.

"Do you want another page? Or should I burn it?" Anya glared at William with her hands on her hips.

William scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

"So, I haven't seen many fairies. Where have you been hiding?" Anya asked Fiona before she started to take the goddesses' measurements.

"I live in the states," Fiona offered with a shrug as she turned to the goddess and reached her arms around her middle.

"Yeah, but where?" Anya persisted as the tape went above her chest.

"Nowhere," Fiona chuckled as she kept her fingers on the appropriate mark and turned to write it down.

Torin smiled at the joke. She did live by a town called Nowhere. It was beautiful lush land with a low population count and lots of room and water for the fairy family to frolic through. _What would she look like naked, under a full moon and her wings allowed to spread free? _Torin found himself wondering as he leaned onto the desk to cradle his head on his arms.

A light flashed warning Torin that more beings were at the fence. Moaning, he typed the command as he continued to watch Fiona as she moved.

"Can I ask you a question?" Danika asked as Fiona pricked Anya's finger.

"Sure," Fiona nodded with some of her hair falling out of the protection of her ear.

"How were you created? I mean, your species?" Danika asked still clutching to Reyes' hand as they sat on one of the few sofas. _I'm going to need to order more if this keeps up_, Torin thought to himself noting that there really wasn't much sitting space in the entertainment room. "I mean," Damkia sighed. "You know what I mean right?"

"Yes," Fiona nodded with a smile. "There are many different stories about that one," Fiona said, recapping the small vial. "Um, who's next?"

"Lucy, your turn," Anya beamed at her mate.

With a moan at the nick name, Lucian moved to have his turn.

"Sorry, I wasn't ignoring you," Fiona said readdressing Danika. "Some stories say that we were created by the blood of Odin, spilling on to a butterfly during one of his many battles. Others say another deity's blood was spilled. My favorite is one that claimes we were created by one of the Old Norse gods falling deeply in love with the most beautiful butterfly ever," Fiona smiled as she took Lucian's dimensions.

Torin found himself growling again at one of his friends.

"Odin?" Lucian asked as he sprayed his arms out for Fiona.

"Yes," Fiona nodded. "We Celtics originated from the Norse pantheon. Just as Romans are of the Greek pantheon. Also, how the Christians are an off shoot of Catholicism, which has its roots deeply based in Judaism. Not that any of them would admit that," Fiona said more to herself than the whole room. "Also, Islam is a part of that pantheon as well. That _is_ right, right?" Fiona asked looking over to Olivia.

The angel beamed in delight as she nodded. "You got it perfect."

"How and _why_ do you know all that?" Kaia, one of Gwen's elder sisters, asked as she crossed her arms under her breasts.

"She can open a book," Torin smiled at the fairy. Not only was she a wonder to behold, but she held a vast sea of knowledge. _Exquisite_, he purred to himself.

Fiona shrugged. "I get board ever so often and watch the History, Discovery, and Science Channel. Before TV though, I would go to the library and read whatever I could get my hands on."

"Eww," William shuddered. "They make channels like that?"

"Yes," Fiona laughed. That laugh sent chills through Torin making his skin and lower region tighten further.

"Why would you watch the History Chanel when you already lived through it?" Reyes asked first before the others could.

Torin watched as Fiona shrugged with a smile. "I wasn't born when Pharaoh Ramses II was alive. I also wasn't in Greece during her reign like I assume you were. Nor was I in Germany when Hitler seized control and united a whole country under one banner. So, watching the History Channel allows me to further my knowledge on things I was not a part of." Fiona turned again, giving Torin another look at her gloriously shaped bottom, as she turned to write more numbers down. "I can give you first hand experiences on how my kin helped shape the Albannaich people, as well as how the US came about and into power. I can also recite for you many a fairy tale as well as numerous drinking songs."

"Oh, would you tell us a fairy tale?" Ashlyn asked rubbing her rounded belly.

"Yes, please," Torin moaned in delight at the question.

_Keep talking. _Torin found Disease demanding of the woman.

"You sure?" Fiona asked raising an eyebrow at the still pregnant Ashlyn.

"Would you mind?" Ashlyn asked now thinking better of her question.

"Please," others joined in with whines, as did Torin.

"Sure," Fiona shrugged. "Let's see," Fiona thought aloud as she tapped a finger on her lips. Lips that were made for lucrative acts, lucrative acts Torin would give his life to experience. "Oh, I got it!" Fiona beamed in delight. "In days of old, when knights were bold, there lived a fearsome dragon," Fiona began to sing as she took Lucian's hand and positioned it over the larger vial. "And the King he was in great distress for the countries spirits laggin'. Until there came a shining knight, he was handsome, young, and charming. And he slew the dragon with his sword with a smile that was so disarming. With a hey and a ho and a hey nany no, with a smile that was so disarming.

"Said the King, 'I wish to know your name'. Said the knight, 'Sir do not bother. Ya verily one knight,' said he, 'is the same as any other.' The King then said, 'in my daughter's bed tonight you'll take your leisure. And you'll be reward you for your deed, with a night of exhausting pleasure.' With a hey and a ho and a hey nany no, with a night of _exhausting pleasure_.

"One daughter she has raven hair, she's a maiden, young and chaste. And she sleeps all night in the pale moonlight, naked to her waist. The other daughter she's so fair, the fairest in the town. And she sleeps all night in the pale moonlight, naked from her small waist down. With a hey and a ho and a hey nany no, naked from her small waist down.

"The knight he stayed for many hours inside the castle walls. But the ending to my story is not what it seems at all…For in neither bed of either maid was he repaid for his _glory_. For he slept all night with the King instead, for this is a fairy story. With a hey and a ho and a hey nany no, for this is a fairy story."

Everyone in the room burst into laughter. Torin and Disease were likewise thrilled to have heard her sing. It was listening to a nightingale on a clear night. And every note was on pitch.

"You asked," Fiona laughed at Ashlyn as she placed the small, half filled vial on the pool table.

"I don't get it," Oliva said looking at Aeron confused.

Fiona burst into more fits of laugher. "Who's next?" Fiona asked shaking her head when she could breathe again.

"Sabin," Lucian laughed through.

* * *

"Fairy Story" by The Naughty Nymphs. (Actually, it's an Irish folk song, but I know they sing it, so.)


	14. Chapter 14

Fiona was having a wonderful time. Yes, she was in a house full of bloodthirsty killers that could take her head without even thinking twice, but it was fun. And they were all so, _nice_. She found herself starting to actually like all of them. Which was a bonus, since she and Umhala would be working for them for a long time. Also, she got to meet a genuine harpy! And not just one, she meet three of them! Gwen, Kaia, and Taliyah. She liked them. They were spunky and full of life. And Sabin was right, their wings folded in and out through slits and their nails elongated to make claws. Keeping in mind their wing demand, she made a notation in her notebook to incorporate slits so their wings could come and go as they please. Then she got to officially meet a genuine angel and demon. Legion was not what she had in mind when the word demon was used, but oddly enough, she pulled it off.

After her little "Fairy Story," they had wanted to hear more. So, she sang "The Scotsman," and "The Chandler Shop." Olivia soon started to catch on to the subtext of the songs Fiona had been singing and laughed so hard, it made her sides hurt. Then, Anya started to sing some bawdy songs Fiona had never heard before. She didn't have a bad singing voice, but it wasn't quite on pitch regardless of how she sang the song.s Eventually, the guys got involved in the singing a tune that reminded Fiona of "Roll Your Leg Over." It was fun having all the big, evil, scary killers in a merry mood. Well, all but Gideon, but he was just mad that he had to wear something from the one _incest _he hated most, Scarlet had explained.

Fiona was halfway through "The Cuckoo's Nest," when she realized she had gone through the whole room. So, she just started dancing as she sang. "Thank you, thank you. I'll be here all week," Fiona bowed to her audience. "Remember to tip your waitress and I take scotch as payment," Fiona smiled at everyone. "But no, seriously," she sobered. "If you're hiding Cinderella, now would be a good time to bring her out."

"That's the perfect name for Torin," Anya laughed. "Did you hear that Cindy?" the goddess asked as she looked up to the ceiling. Silence greeted Anya's question. "Cinder-el-la," Anya yelled, and again there was silence.

_Who in the world are you talking to_? Foina questioned the goddess as she watched her features change from playful to feirce.

"Torin, I know you're there. Answer me!"

"Yes, goddess?" a male tenor teased form all around Fiona. A voice so captivating it caused her heartbeat to quicken and her skin to tingle.

"What do you think of your new name?"

"I refuse to answer to it," the male said matter-of-factly.

_Gods, who is that?_ Fiona asked herself as she looked the room over. She knew most of their names, and not one of them had possessed a voice like that. It was like honey poured over satin, laced with nightshade. Sweet and sultry while intoxicating all at the same time.

"But it's perfect," Anya insisted.

"Not going to happen," the voice said as it sent shivers through Fiona's body settling in her core.

"Flowers," Anya whined to Lucian.

Lucian shrugged. "I cannot blame him for not wanting to answer to that one."

"But it's perfect."

"Who, who is that?" Fiona asked with only a hint of a wisp to her voice.

"Torin," Anya fumed to the ceiling.

"Torin?" Fiona asked, as the name swirled around in her brain, sending impulses to every nerve ending in her body. The scensations making her feel as if she had been placed into a boiling caldron and set for bone melting.

"Yes, Fiona," Torin seemed to purr her name all around her, sending more of those shivers through Fiona as her wings started to twitch in their coverings.

"How," Fiona found herself asking as she looked to the ceiling and spinning around trying to find the mystery man. "How are you doing that? You're not invisible are you?"

A very male laugh sounded around the room. Fiona wanted to close her eyes and wrap that voice around her like a blanket, as those wonderful sensations coursed through her faster and faster. "Some days."

"Where are you?" Fiona asked arching a brow to the ceiling. "And how can you hear me?"

"Torin is linked to the fortress," Sabin offered as he pointed to cameras that were hiding in the corners of the room.

"I, I can't outfit a whole house! Are you crazy?" Fiona panicked. And why in the gods' names was she reacting to a mechanical voice. Why couldn't she have reacted that way to Kane or William? They weren't that terrible to look at. In fact, they were quite handsome. But there was something in that voice they didn't have.

Oh gods, that wonderful voice laughed again sending Fiona's pulse racing with delight. "I am watching you _through_ the cameras onto a monitor."

_Oh thank the gods he's a real person_. Fiona didn't know if her ego could take that round house kick to her head. She had always thought herself strange because she was not attracted to many males of the opposite sex. And she was not a lesbian, because no woman appealed to her either. Though, if she were to become a lesbian, Cameo was now at the top of her 'to do' list. Even if her voice did cause her heart to break, Fiona would bet she would make one hell of a Cio-Cio San _if_ Cameo could sing spinto soprano. Their eyes were almost identical. It was rare to find someone with silver eyes, so a small kinship for the woman had bloomed within Fiona. They were also the same height and had the same hair color. The main difference being, that Cameo emitted a 'I'll kill you in less time than it takes for you to breath' attitude even when she smiled. "So, are you going to come here so I can measure you?" Fiona asked the hidden man.

"I cannot," Torin sighed. "There's not enough room in there for me to move about freely."

_Great. Just my luck. I'm attracted to the voice of a fricken GIANT!_ Fiona cursed and moaned at herself. _And if he is a giant, how am I supposed to outfit him? We don't have that much material. We barely have enough to outfit the warriors here in this room, _and man were there a lot of them. She did have to give props to their lineage, though. Chip and Dales would become multi-zillionaires if the warriors ever decided on a career change.

"Would one of you mind bringing her up here?" Torin's voice sounded again, heating her blood to the point of evaporation.

"I'll do it!" William beamed in delight as he stepped forward. "Come on sweetheart, I'll show you our dirty little secret," he said with pure mischievousness highlighting his beautiful blues.

"Touch me and I'll castrate you," Fiona beamed as she spoke in Gàidhlig, confusing the taller man. She didn't mind touching people when the need arose, but she hated being touched by people when they had that look in their eyes, that said 'I am irresistible and I know it.'

"That's pretty, but what did you say?" William asked raising an eyebrow as he walked closer.

_So, none of them understand Gàidhlig? Otherwise one of them would have made a gasp or laughed. Perfect! _"That I would be honored if you would show me the way," Fiona smiled as she got another vial out of its box. Corking the larger vial, only a quarter full of ruby red liquid, she placed it and the smaller empty vial on her notebook as well as her dagger. "Lead the way," Fiona nodded to William as she clutched her bundle to her bosom.

"You know, I don't think I've ever had fairy," William spoke mostly to himself as he lead the way up a flight of stairs.

"Sucks to be you," Fiona spoke in Gàidhlig under her breath. At least here she could get away with it. At home, Umhala would have yelled at her.

"Would you be willing to correct that?" William asked as he turned to Fiona, a huge smile that would have melted most female hearts, plastered on his face.

"Um," Fiona thought as she tilted her head to the side. "No, thanks," she smiled back.

"Your loss," William shrugged as he resumed walking down a long hallway. "Oh," William said remembering something. "Whatever you do, do NOT touch Torin," he demanded.

"Why?" Fiona wondered as she tilted her head, yet again. "Is he an aphephob?"

"A what?" William stopped and asked confused.

"Aphephobia is the fear of being touched."

"Something like that," William nodded, then continued to walk. "He is cursed by the demon of Disease. If you touch him, you could spread the disease to others. So it's best that you don't touch."

"Oh-kay," Fiona shook her head confused. _How in the world am I going to take measurements on a giant that's an aphephob? I kind of have to touch to get a precise measurement._

"Do all fairies have wings?" William wondered as he rounded another corner.

"Yes," Fiona nodded.

"Is possessing wings really the only difference between fairies and elves?"

"I take it you've had an elf or two?" Fiona asked as she followed behind another corner.

"A couple," William shrugged as he stopped in front of a door with a camera mounted in the corner above the door.

Instantly, a tall, broad, overly qualified Chip and Dale's material of a man with shoulder length white hair, black eyebrows, bright emerald green eyes, and tanned skin stood in the doorway that William had stopped in front of. "Hello Fiona," he said with his eyes burning right through Fiona to her very soul, making her feel naked in his presents.

Fiona's mouth opened and closed as she tried to formulate a coherent thought. _Pretty_, was the only word out of thousands that came to mind. "H-halò," she finally managed to get out. _Seotal_. Fiona purred as she looked the man up and down. He was covered from neck to toe in black. Even his arms and hands were covered. _Lethal black kitty. _Fiona moaned to herself as her knees tried to buckle._ One I can't pet!_ Fiona had to remind herself shaking her head violently from side to side. _No petting the pretty kitty!_

"Come in," Torin offered as he moved away from the door stepping into the room.

"Tapadh leat," Fiona tried not to swoon as the words left her lips. _Ah! English, English, English!_ "Thank you," she smiled as she walked into the room still staring at Torin as she absently bumped into the doorjamb.

"Watch it," William said as he moved to catch Fiona.

"I'm fine," Fiona said as she moved out of William's range. "I just, I thought you would be a giant or a golem," Fiona said as she stared at the floor so she wouldn't have the erg to pet the white haired man. "You said that there wasn't room with the others. I just assumed you would be…"

A low laugh caused Fiona to look at Torin. He had the cutest and faintest dimples she had ever seen. _Beautiful, _Fiona swayed again.

"You okay?" William asked as he moved to catch her again. The moment he caught her, Torin's features changed to loathing and Fiona noted that the rims of his emerald eyes were being lined in red.

"I'm fine," Fiona nodded and moved away from William again. "Um, where can I put these?" Fiona asked gesturing to her bundle.

"On the desk," Torin said as his eyes stayed on Fiona's bosom. Fiona could have sworn she caught a hint of something dark and sensual in that look. That look made her knees want to buckle and her core moisten.

Hating herself for it, Fiona looked away to see the rest of the room. It was mostly bare. There was a desk with so many monitors on it, Fiona was amazed it didn't buckle under the weight. A chair, a bed, and two doors that lead to who knew where. Walking to the desk, she placed her things down carefully next to the keyboard. "William said you are an aphephob who harbors Disease," Fiona asked as she picked up her tape measure and debated with herself if she could get away with taking his measurements the same way she had done Kane's.

"It's just, easier, not to touch," Torin responded in a voice that reminded her of Cameo's. It was heart breaking and she wanted to sooth that pain from him.

"So," Fiona asked finally turning to look at the lethal, black clad from head to toe, man. "Would I get sick from taking your measurements?" she asked as she held the tape measure in both hands, absently winding it in her left.

"No," he said shaking his glorious head of hair. _Would his hair feel like snow?_ "You are immortal, like us, so you would wind up infecting mortals when you come into contact with them."

"Oh," Fiona sighed as she continued to memorize the beautifully hand crafted man in front of her. "So then how are we going to do this?" Fiona asked as she tilted her head to the side.

"Carefully," William offered from the door with his arms over his chest leaning up against the wall.


	15. Chapter 15

Muahahaha! I found a better translator. Sad part is that it only does Gaeilge (Irish Gaelic), not Gàidhlig (Scottish Gaelic). Oh well, I'll get over it. *Cries profusely.* It's www. stars21 .com/ translator/ (Take out the spaces. For some reason FanFiction does not like you inserting websites.) They also do Greek, if you're curious how I got the translations later on. ^_^ It might not be perfect, but damn it, it works. (If you know how it is supposed to go, please inform the stupid. Aka, me.)

You have no idea how happy I am that you are still reading this. I am truly enjoying writing this for you and myself. So, please remember to post more of those fun and lovely comments. ^_^

* * *

_Dear gods of Valhalla and Helheim_, Fiona worshiped as she ran both her hands down Torin's taught abdomen, sending little electrical shocks throughout her body. She was on a decent to take his leg measurements, feeling every curve, dip, and bump on the way. The second, Torin had told her she should be okay with touching him _over _his clothes, she could not help herself from seizing the opportunity. But, her hands were itching to feel _his _skin, NOT the fabric that covered the man's tight and perfect body. As her hand slid by his groin, she felt his manhood twitch toward her as a low moan escaped his perfectly formed lips. Her core instantly reacted to him as she started thinking of all the perverted things she could do to him from her knees. All she really wanted to do, was pet and lick the beautifully deathly seotal.

_He's a warrior not a cat!_ Fiona had to remind herself. _A graceful, deadly, majestic warrior. Okay fine! Cats are the same way! But no cat is built like him._ _Like Torin._ Fiona moaned to herself as his name spoken inside her mind sent shivers through her. _My chieftain kitty,_ a voice in the back of Fiona's mind whispered. Fiona stopped dead in her motions.

"What's wrong?" Torin half purred and half growled down at her with his beautiful eyes cloaked by fans of black eyelashes.

Fiona shook her head violently form side to side sending her hair flying. "Nothing. I just messed up the measurement," she lied. Redoing his measurement, she tried with all her might not to touch him. _My kitty? Where in the world did _that_ come from? He's not _mine_. Hel, I can't even touch him unless it's through cloth. And, oh, I could weave him cloth so fine, he would think it was my skin touching him._ Fiona shook her head again to get the thoughts out of her head. Standing, she moved to write down his measurements. Warmth enveloped her middle as Torin's hand caught her. She stopped and closed her eyes as her wings threatened to be released from their confinement for the millionth time in the past half hour. She had milked taking Torin's measurements for as long as she could. Fiona just couldn't seem to get enough of him no matter what she did.

"Is that it?" Torin asked huskily slowly moving his thumb up and down as more of those deathly electrical pulses ran through Fiona settling deep between her thighs.

"Not if you keep this up," Fiona said in Gàidhlig under her breath ,as she tried her best to keep her wings from forcefully ripping her shirt to shreds. "I'll have you naked on the floor. Diseased be damned."

"Say that again," Torin moaned. That moan sent more ripples through Fiona as her core moistened and her nipples hardened past the point of pleasureful pain.

Fiona turned toward Torin as she repeated her need, placing one hand just above his rapidly beating heart. She hated that his long black fanning eyelashes were covering his beautiful eyes that held a knowledge far vaster than her own. So great was her need to just touch his cheek as she spoke. _What would he feel like? Marble or velvet?_

"It's beautiful," Torin said opening his eyes to her. "What does it mean?"

"Something," she smiled mischievously causing Torin to grin as his eyes darkened with the same intensity of darker desires as Fiona felt.

"Είστε τόσο όμορφη," Torin whispered as his thumb moved up and down Fiona's side again.

Shivers spread through Fiona as she tried to stay standing even though her knees wanted to give way and her skin wanted to be peeled off so that the built up steam could be released. "What does that mean?"

"Something," Torin said with a smile that was darkly wicked. Oh, how she liked him.

A very audible clearing of the throat sounded, reminding Fiona why she was there. "Right, I'm done measuring you," Fiona managed to get out without crying as she dropped her hand. "All I need now, is some of your blood."

Torin shook his head, "You can't."

_I can't, can I?_ Fiona asked raising an eyebrow and slowly grinning at the challenge. "Why not?"

"My, blood, is also a contaminate," Torin sighed as his minty breath washed over Fiona.

"The spell won't work for you without it." Fiona wanted to cry. Here was her chance to see how tanned he was and he wouldn't allow it!

"That's fine," Torin said slowly shaking his head.

"Alright," Fiona pouted as she started to move away again.

"But," Torin insisted as his grip on her increased. "If you could make me a pair of gloves, I would be indebted to you."

"Kay," Fiona nodded, anything to stay close to him and brand his sandalwood scent deeper into her subconscious. Slowly, she traced her way up his arm, feeling all those glorious electrical shocks on the way up his stone chiseled body. "What kind of material would you prefer?"

"Anything that will take a while to fray," Torin said as his eyes went back to half mast.

"Cotton has a tendency to do that quickly," Fiona said, noting that all he was wearing was the high quality stuff. "The spider silk will be difficult to fray." _But that means I won't get to make you more pairs for at least another hundred years!_ Fiona pouted to herself.

"That's fine," Torin said in that bone heating husky voice that made Fiona want to throw cushion to the wind and push him to the floor or up against a wall and see for herself if his lips were made of stone or something softer.

Fiona had measured every inch of his arms and hands. As she worked, every measurement was ingrained into her DNA. "These _were_ well made," Fiona found herself saying as she turned Torin's hand over and saw that the tips of his fingers were in fact fraying slightly. All too quickly Torin took his hand back, making Fiona pout at the sudden loss of heat in her hands. "Who made them?" she asked, because she was going to burn their factory down to the ground. _No one should be allowed to cloth this man but me!_ That tiny voice shouted.

"A company based in China," Torin said as he moved away, taking all that glorious warmth with him.

_I guess I'll just have to burn them all down._ Fiona thought with pure malice. _Ah! Where do all these thoughts keep coming from?_ She shouted as she shook her head again. "I'll start on these as soon as I can. Since, you need them more than the others," Fiona smiled.

"Thank you," Torin nodded.

"You're welcome," Fiona beamed in delight as she turned and moved toward the desk. Bending over she wrote down all Torin's measurements. Sadly, she had made a song to go along with all the numbers. Swaying from side to side, she was able to write them all down in one shot.

A low growl caught Fiona's attention before William cleared his throat. "Are you ready?" William asked as he moved off his wall position by the door.

Fiona nodded as she closed her notebook and placed her pen behind her ear. Gathering up her things she turned to take one last look at Torin. _Gods he's beautiful_. Fiona moaned as she clutched the items tighter to her chest. What she wouldn't give to have five minutes alone with him, and to not be afraid of infecting herself or others. Or would he be like herein? Making her want more and more until he was the only thing keeping her alive? _Probably herein_, Fiona decided. She already felt like she was an addict even though she hadn't even had the full sample yet.

"Μάιος οι Θεοί είναι με σας," Torin spoke in that melodic language that Fiona could not place.

"What language is that?" Fiona asked as she tried not to reach out and stroke his cheek as she moved closer to him and the inevitable door.

"It's Greek," William offered as he looked to Torin with confusion plain on his face. "He said, 'May the gods be with you.'"

Fiona smiled at the endearment as blood crawled into her cheeks. "Bealtaine na déithe tú a chosaint. May the gods protect you," she translated for him.

"Well, come on," William said as he opened the door and stepped aside for Fiona to leave the room. "Lucian will want to spend the rest of the night with Anya," he shivered. "And we all have work to do."

"Right," Fiona moaned as she nodded her head and moved toward William._ Feicfidh mé thú i mo seotal daor aisling_, Fiona wanted to promise to Torin as she reached the door and turned to look at him one last time before she made her way through the portal.

"I need a cold shower," William shivered to himself as he led Fiona to the staircase.

She had wanted to drag her feet on the walk back to the original room she had been in, but found herself keeping pace with William instead. Fiona could only nod in agreement. Her thoughts were still on the lethal black leopard that was behind her.

"Hay?" William asked, turning to look at her. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Huh?" Fiona asked looking up to the taller man, just realizing she had stopped moving when he had.

"Are you sure you're okay?" William asked as he placed a hand on Fiona's forehead. "You're a little warm."

"I'm fine," Fiona growled shaking her head to move out of his reach and proceed down the stairs.

"Alright," William surrendered raising his arms. "Like I said, how long is it going to take you to sew all these wonderful new clothes?" he asked rubbing his hands together.

"Sewing will take two to three days to get them all done," Fiona said as she took the stairs with caution. She didn't need to have a mishap and break the vials.

"So you'll be back in three days?" William asked giddily.

Fiona shook her head. "No. Sewing is the last step in the weaving process. Before we can sew anything, we have to dye the yarn, thread the yarn on the loom, make the cloth, _then_ we can cut the cloth and sew."

"So, I'm not going to get a new wardrobe any time soon am I?" William asked as all the pep in him expired.

"Sooner than you think," Fiona smiled as she stopped on the last step, not knowing where to go from there, and turned toward the saddened man. "You should have the new outfit within a fortnight, if all goes well."

"And if it doesn't?" William asked raising an eyebrow.

Fiona shrugged. "A fort-and-a-half to a month. But I can't see any reason why it would take us a month. The only reason for that would be due to a natural disaster. So, it shouldn't take that long," Fiona smiled.


	16. Chapter 16

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! that I haven't uploaded any new chapters in a, well, a while. I was a little bit preoccupied with playing Mass Effect 1 & 2 (Great Spirits I love Garrus Vakarian! He is so awesome! I want a Turian of my own. *Pouts that they're not real.*) as well as redoing my Dragon Age: Origins playthrough so that I could dedicate my life to the Maker and Andraste *giggles* in Dragon Age 2. So, if it takes me a while to produce more chapters…I'm sorry. I love to read the LotU series, I really do, but, a girl's gotta have a hobby in between books. Right? And seriously, who can deny a shy, sweet Alistair, the minx that is Zevran, the broody elf Fenris, and a sexy apostate that goes by the name of Anders? Oh, and the dwarf that gets the "Character of the Year Award," Varric! (Can you tell what game I just finished?)

Although, now that I think about it…I don't think I will ever be able to decide between Thane and Zevran, Tali'Zorah nar Rayya and Leliana, Garrus and Fenris, or Jack and Morrigan. AHHH! My heart is being pulled in too many directions! Damn you BioWare! *Waves fist in the air.*

But no, seriously. If you have a PC (which, I know you do, otherwise how are you reading this?), an Xbox360, or a PS3…Please, please, PLEASE check out these games!

**Dragon Age: Origins** ("Swooping is bad." LMFAO!)  
**Dragon Age: Origins; Awakening** (An addon, but still a necessity for the story's sake. Actually, I think all the addons are a necessity. But that could just be me.)  
**Dragon Age 2** (I did mention that I love Varric and Fenris…right?)  
**Mass Effect** (Only available on PC and Xbox360. [Damn mergers and their unwillingness to rerelease on PS3. *Sobs.*])  
**Mass Effect 2** (Available on all three platforms. "Your hair looks… good, and your waist is… very… supportive." Consider me romanced, you hunk of male Turian meat!)  
**Mass Effect 3** (Coming soon! *Squeak!* More Garrus! [Did I mention that I would love me some nice Turian a$$? Oh, and some loving for Joker? That would be sweet.[)

It's a short list, I know, but you'll probably spend a week or two on each game, (_So_ not kidding. I logged over 100 hours on each game just to get all the trophies…and because they're addictively awesome!) but they are _SO_ worth it! *Squeak!* Oh, and you don't have to play them in this order. I just have this issue with alphabetizing things. Though, if you are going to play, it's usually best to play the first game, well, first. **Baldur's Gate** is fun as well, but that's just for PC. Oh, oh, oh, if you can find it, **Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic** for Xbox, *clinches heart* AWESOME! (It's on PC too, so stop worrying so much.)

DA:O and DA:OA, play kinda like WoW, meaning that it's turn based and third person. DA2 is more of a button masher in third person…kinda. ME 1, 2, & 3 are third person shooters, but don't let that get you down. Trust me when I say that, "_**I hate shooter games**_!" (Halo kicks my ass every time. And that's on EASY! *Tear*) but recommend one, than it is awesome! And if that still doesn't make you want to play, just remember that BioWare is number one on the whole story aspect of their games. You will seriously go through every emotion known to mankind as you play through one of their games.

I love you BioWare! *Big hugs to all the employs who work for the greatest (well that's my opinion anyway) gaming company on the planet! (Okay fine, second! Bethesda is first.[I love the openness of the **Fallout** and **Elder Scrolls** series…Speaking of,…**Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim**, is also coming out soon. ^_^ ] But, that's besides that point!)*

I got sidetracked…What was I supposed to be doing?... … … … Oh right! Torin! Sorry! You know, if I didn't know any better I would say that they based Fenris' looks off you, my man. White hair, black eyebrows, vivid green eyes…*Melts to seat in a fit of pleasure.* Though, I doubt you glow in the dark. And Fenris is kinda on the short side. Huh...

Right, getting to work. (Stop thinking about sexy elves! Damn you woman!)

I own nothing. This is just for fun. Blah, blah, blah. Here we go!

Seriously…_**PLAY THEM! **_You will love me for it.

_**

* * *

**_

"Cad é?" Fiona growled through a yawn as she answered her phone on the fourth ring. "Seo a bheith níos fearr a seanmháthair tábhachtach! An bhfuil tú fiú a fhios cén t-am é?"

The sound of that beautiful language combined with such a seductive voice caught Torin off guard as his body instantly reacted. No one should sound like that after just waking up. And he knew she had been sleeping because he had been ticking off the minuets since she had left and knew it was now four in the morning where she was. It had been one day, sixteen hours, five minutes, and forty seconds since Lucian had flashed Fiona away from the fortress. Every instinct Torin had, demanded that he keep her near him when she had moved to leave his room. Even Disease had demanded it of him. They had wanted to infect her with kisses and caresses so that no one could have her but them. Or to have her _accidently_ touch him so that she would only belong to him. Torin also wanted to know if her touch would be as electrifying skin to skin as he thought it would be. Or to know if her taste was like the honeysuckles she smelled of. _Would she taste like honey or something sweeter?_ Torin had wondered for the whole forty plus hours.

_Butterfly_, Disease moaned as he stirred awake.

"Bhuel?" Fiona growled through another yawn.

"Hello Fiona," Torin finally said aloud as he leaned back in his chair running a hand through his hair. "Sorry to wake you up so early." No he wasn't. He had been hopping she would still be asleep. That away, when she truly woke up she, would think the call was just a dream. He couldn't logically figure out why her dreaming of him pleased him, but it did. Even Disease moaned at the thought.

"Tory," Fiona sighed the name in utter delight. At first, Torin wanted to kill whoever _Tory _was, until he realized she hacked his name off, and then he moaned in pleasure at the endearment. The sound of it, an aphrodisiac to his senses. "What's up?" she yawned.

"Not much," Torin said shaking his head. "The guys were just curious how things were going," which was true. The others were pumped and couldn't hold in their excitement. Fiona had told them all it would take up to two weeks, but some of them still thought the little fairies could produce them over night. So, Torin had offered to call and see how their new digs were coming, and to hear her sensual voice again. He also didn't want any of the others talking to her. Again, he couldn't logically figure out why, it just was.

"Oh," Fiona sighed sadly. "The threads and yarns are dyed. Once their dry, we're going to mount the looms," she yawned again. "I'm glad you called."

That one sentence sent shivers through Torin and Disease moaned in delight. She was glad he called. Torin moaned at the thought just as his demon had. "Really?" Torin managed to get out without giving anything away.

"Yeah," she yawned. "I forgot to tell you all that my sister's pregnant and wants to make you all his godparents," yawn. "Would you mind telling the others? Oh, and she wants to know if you all wouldn't mind naming him as well."

_Oh._ Torin thought bitterly. _Business not pleasure._ "Sure, I'll tell them." Depression hit him like a frit train going fifty, ripping his body this way and that all over the tracks.

"Thanks," she yawned. "Oh, Tory?"

"Mm?"

"Did you want the butterfly on your gloves, or no?"

"Sure," Torin shrugged as he leaned forward and looked the monitors over. There was still nothing going on out in the city, which was starting to become a nuisance.

"Okay," Fiona yawned. "Where?"

"Surprise me."

"Can I ask you something?" Fiona asked as shifting fabric sounded in the background.

"Only if I can ask you a question," Torin smiled. Maybe, he could keep her talking and learn more about her.

"Alright," she agreed quickly. "Where is your mark?" she asked with genuine curiosity and just a hint of sheepishness.

That caught Torin off guard. He thought she would ask what he was doing, or where he was, anything but that. Torin grinned, _Full of surprises_. "Why do you want to know?" He asked, trying to figure her out.

"Sabin said you all had them, but not in the same location. I was just curious where yours was."

She wanted to know him just as he wanted to know her. Torin smiled at the thought. "On my abdomen, above my navel," he said as he placed a hand over the hated mark.

"Aww," Fiona pouted. "I was hoping it would be on your bicep."

Torin was even more confused by that statement. "Why?"

"Because it would be funny. 'Look at my guns,'" Fiona said lowering her voice and octave to impersonate a male. ""I'm so macho I cam sport a butterfly and still look cool while I kick your ass,'" Fiona laughed normally.

Gods she had an addictive and sultry laugh. It was full of life and wicked things he wanted to experience with her.

_Butterfly_, Disease purred.

_Quiet,_ Torin told the demon.

"Anyway, my turn," Fiona said after she was mostly done laughing.

"I thought it was my turn?" Torin asked, forgetting his former question.

"No, and that's two for me. So, what do you do all day?"

Torin was enraptured. Even half asleep, she was able to play a verbal game. "I watch for possible threats to us as well as supply our funds and refurnish the fortress." Simple, basic, and didn't give too much away. Sadly, it was also true.

"That's, really, really, boring," Fiona said yawning before she could finish her statement. "So, you just lock yourself up in your room all day, like a hermit?"

"It's, not _good_ for me to go out in public," Torin confessed. Gods, what he would give to be able to go out and enjoy the delightful smells, sights, and sounds of the world again and not fear the consequences.

"What about poorly populated areas? I mean, you would be able to go out and not fear what _could be _as much as you would wondering the streets of say, New York, Hollywood or even Beijing."

"True," Torin nodded. _How does she do that? How does she make me want things I haven't wanted for centuries and still provide a sliver of Hope that it could be possible?_ "What is it you do all day?" he asked not wanting to ask the questions that truly haunted him.

"Um, let's see. On a _normal_ day," she said emphasizing that her day was not a normal one. "I usually wake up around six, eat breakfast, check my e-mail for new orders, then set to work. We plant flax in the late winter and early spring, harvest it in the fall. When we run out of wool we call Tomas, he a herdsman who lives a few miles from here. We also get our cottons from Bubba who lives in the opposite direction. We also get our dies form his wife, Sasha. She has a wicked green house. The rest of the year we weave. At the end of the day, I have a pint of the ever addictive mead before I go to bed while listening to music. Have you ever tried mead? It's addictively awesome."

Torin chuckled at her description of the old beverage. "I can't say that I have. We normally stock up on wines and hard liquors, not meads."

"Mead is a wine. Well, a honey wine, not a grape one. That's the loop hole for the Clergy," Fiona chuckled. "Anyway, I'll bring you some when I bring you your clothes. Everyone needs to try it, at least once in their lives," Fiona said delighting in the possibility of turning another on to the drink.

Torin smiled at the possibility of sharing a drink with her. _Would it taste as sweet or be as addictive as her? _Torin wondered. "What's your favorite color?" Torin asked, so damn curious about everything that made her who she was. _The answer is most likely blue_, Torin thought remembering how gorgeous she was wearing her blue camo shirt and shoes as well as the tight blue jeans she wore showing off lush hips and rump.

"It's a tie between jade and snow," Fiona audibly smiled.

Again, she said things that went against the grain. He was going to have to reevaluate all his previous assumptions about the fairy. "Why those colors?" Torin asked as he passed a hand through his hair and wondered if those colors were a new addition or an old one.

"I don't know," Fiona confessed. Torin thought she was shrugging as she said it, because he heard fabric shifting again. "I've never been able to figure out if I like spring or winter more. I love the fields of green spring brings, and all that warm weather, but there is something sensual about winter that demands to be recognized, even if you don't know what that thing is. What about you?"

"Midnight black and mercury," Torin said without thinking. He also loved the color of ivory as well as rosy pinks. Torin inwardly moaned as he mentally pictured all those colors forming into a sleep ridden fairy.

"I get the whole, warrior, black, thing, but why silver?" Fiona asked.

"Isn't it supposed to be my turn?" Torin asked not wanting to tell her the truth just yet.

"Yes, but now it's mine," Fiona chuckled. "So answer."

Torin was never going to get used to her. She was predictable to a point, but after that, he had no clue what she was going to say or do. Torin sighed. "I like the night sky, _regardless_ of the season," he added with his own chuckle. "Favorite food?"

Fiona moaned in sheer delighted pleasure. "My new love, is a double half pound bacon cheese burger, overly sea salted bacon cheese fries, with a side order of coleslaw. I can never get enough of the stuff," she chuckled. "You?"

_That was a meal, not a food. _Torin laughed to himself as he shook his head_. Maybe she just likes cheese, bacon, and coleslaw, whatever that is_. "Fasolada, though we haven't had that in a long time."

"Never heard of it."

Torin smiled leaning back in his chair to explain. "It's a soup. You cook white beans in a tomato sauce, add in onions, celery, carrots, parsley, and bay leaves. Let it simmer for a while, then pour in half a bottle of olive oil."

"Where's the meat?" Fiona asked worried that she had missed that part.

"It's a vegetable soup, so, no meat," Torin chuckled.

Fiona sounded like she was dry heaving on the other end. "Must, have, meat," Fiona chocked out through convulsions.

"I thought fairies were vegetarians?" Torin teased at her demand for proteins. Most of his research on fairies said that they preferred nuts, fruits, and vegetables. But then, lore had a way of getting away from the truth.

Fiona burst into laughter. "Vegan he says," she laughed again. "No," Fiona stated matter-of-factly instantly sobering. "Some of us, maybe," she agreed breaking her sober mood with a slight chuckle. "Most of us, however, _like_ our meat," Fiona chuckled. "Please tell me you're not a vegan. Please?"

"No," Torin could not help but laugh. "I just like that dish."

"Oh thank the gods," Fiona sighed in relief. "I don't know if I would be able to stand that."

"Stand what?" Torin wondered. _Stand being with a vegan?_ Torin thought with delight at the possibility of her wanting to be with him.

"Nothing. Do you have any brothers or sisters? I mean, I know the _Lords_ are your brothers-and-sisters-in-arms, but any blood siblings?"

Torin smiled. _How will she react to learning that everyone she meet here is a sibling to me?_ "Everyone who lives here, except William," he added with only a hint of a smirk, "is related to me either through blood or marriage."

"You serious?" Fiona asked as her voiced went up an octave. "Whow. That's, a lot of birthdays to remember and celebrate."

"Not really," Torin smiled. Her reactions were becoming addicting. "We were created at the same time," he slipped.

"Created?" Fiona asked, catching his slip up. "How?"

"I don't know the specifics," Torin said, frowning that she had caught that. "What about you? Is Umhala your only sister?"

"Yes. Our mother only had two caterpillars," she chuckled at the term. Torin found it amusing as well. "And Umhala is actually my half sister. I forget who her sire is."

_So there is just one of _you_._ Torin thought in delight. "What is the history of your people?" Torin asked. There were so many legends about her people that it was hard for him to even start to separate out the lies from the truth.

Fiona laughed. "That's a loaded question. You want the truth or would you like me to weave you a story?"

"Truth, if you don't mind."

"Alright," Fiona sighted heavily. "Kill joy," she said under her breath. "First I need to know how much of our lore you _do_ know," she said testing the waters of his knowledge.

Torin smiled. He had delved deeply into the Norse and Celtic mythology that was still known. "Odin is the leader of the Norse pantheon and is married to Frigg," he said reciting all his new found knowledge.

"Wow," Fiona whistled after he recited all the old gods to her as well as a few of his favorite stories. "And you still haven't figured it out?"

"No," Torin said shaking his head. Sadly, that part still eluded him. As did the creation of elves and other creatures of her lore. One would have assumed that instead of keeping the main pantheon, the Celts would have kept the history of their deities. Torin could have killed the Romans for their lack of etiquette for not leaving them alone so he could have learned more.

"At least you made my job easier," she chuckled. "Loki, as you know, can shape shift. Well, he turned himself into a bull and mated with one of Odin's concubines, Jörð. If it was from ill intentions or just because he was horney, none of us truly know. Anyway, from that mating, Jörð gave birth to the first of our people. Eiocha and Cernunnos," Fiona said in delight. "Why were you created?"

"We were created as body guards for Zeus," Torin said without thinking. "How did mating with a bull give birth to fairies?" Torin asked confused on that line of DNA coding.

"Over the generations some of us possessed wings while others did not. Hence, fairies, elves, leprechauns, pixies, and sprites. It's actually having either horns or wings that place you in our hierarchy."

"How did Eiocha and Cernunnos wind up in Northern Europe?" Torin asked before she changed the subject.

"That was where Jörð gave birth to them in secret. Hence, the title of _the hidden people_. If you were created to be body guards to such a powerful god, how did you wind up becoming a Lord?"

Torin sighed heavily as he passed a hand through his hair. "Truth?" he asked hopping she would ask for a fairy tale.

"Yes please," she beamed.

"We opened the dimOuniak."

"The what?" Fiona asked.

"Pandora's box."

"I thought there were only seven sins in that box with Hope? How could you have opened it and there be so many of you? And wasn't she supposed to be the one to open it?"

"No," Torin said shaking his head. "Pandora was the greatest warrior among us. The gods gave her the dimOuniak to protect. We became jealous and opened it, releasing hundreds of demons upon the earth. As punishment, we became possessed by the demons we released," Torin told her as he tried not to tread too closely to the painful memories.

"Seriously? We would have been patted on the back for that one."

Torin tried not to laugh at her innocence. At the time, he had thought the same thing. He had thought he was proving himself worthy. "Favorite scent?" he asked, wanting to get off the line of questioning they had arrived at.

"Sandalwood," Fiona instantly supplied with a moan.

For hours, Torin talked with Fiona delighting in her voice and her unpredictability. Not once did either of them tire of their discussions, and when there was a silence, it wasn't awkward to be in. It was a delight to just sit and listen to her breath. But, when her alarm clock went off, she reluctantly had to go and start her day.

"Can I call you again tomorrow?" Torin asked wanting to continue talking to her but understanding the reason why she had to leave.

_Keep_! Disease demanded.

_She has to go_. Torin sighed to his counterpart.

"Sure. Just, don't call at four in the morning…Scratch that," Fiona laughed. "Four is fine. I'll just go to bed earlier."

She was actually going to make accommodations for him? Pleasure pored through Torin as he counted the hours until he could speak with her again. "Talk to you later then," Torin said, still not wanting to let her go.

"Okay. Good morning, or is it afternoon?"

"Afternoon."

"Then, have an awesome afternoon," Fiona chuckled.

"Good morning Fiona," Torin smiled.

"Later Tory."

"Bye," Torin said as he kept the phone by his ear not wanting their time together to be cut off.

"You kind of have to hang up for this to work," Fiona teased with a slight laugh.

"You didn't," Torin pointed out, delighted that she didn't want it to end either.

"Uh, the girl always hangs up last. Don't you know that?"

That, was a new one to him, actually. "No."

"Alright, on three we hang up, 'cause I _really_ need to use the bathroom."

"Go," Torin growled at her for forgetting to take care of herself first. "I'll talk to you later."

"Kay. Thanks. Slán," and with that the line went dead and Torin was forced to go about his usual routine.

Sighing heavily as he placed his phone on the desk, and watched the monitors with little interest. His mind was still processing all the information he had learned about the Fae and Fiona.

_Butterfly,_ Disease whined at the loss of her voice.

_I agree._


	17. Chapter 17

Fiona was in a cheerful mood the whole day. Nothing seemed to faze her, even when they had hitches mounting the looms. She just laughed and tried it again. She even sang as she worked. All she could think about was talking to Torin again later the next morning. She wanted to know how he had been doing, to know if he spotted any Hunters in Buda, to see how the others were doing. But, what she really wanted to know was more about his demon, Disease. To know exactly what diseases he could spread, how Torin had survived living with the demon, and if there were any precautions she could take so that she could touch him one day. And by the Gods, she was going to do it. She was going to find out for herself if he really was made out of marble or satin. To know, beyond a shadow of any doubt, if his mouth tasted like mint and his skin tasted like sandalwood. So badly was her need to touch and to feed off what was denied to her.

_Alright, I give,_ Umhala signed once they ended their work for the day and Sarah had called for dinner. But, before Fiona could leave her loom, Umhala had snared her attention. _What's his name?_

"Who's whose name?" Fiona asked confused as she continued to fiddle with her loom.

Umhala pulled on Fiona's shoulder to get her attention back. _The name of the man who has captivated your attention all day. Not _once_ have you complained how hard it is to mount a loom. Not even a sigh. And don't get me started on your lack of complaints for using the power loom. You're acting like Maggie did when she meet Jacob for the first time. Spill. Now._

"I don't mind using the power loom. It'll do twice the work we can, in the same amount of time. It also does denims better. The pattern is simple, so entering it into the blasted thing was easy. What I want to know, is why you think there has to be a _male _involved to be happy and enjoy my work," Fiona wondered raising an eyebrow at her sister.

_You are using _my_ logic to justify using the power loom. You hate the thing. I know you do, because you complain every time I suggest it would be a good idea to use it and free up some time for ourselves. _Umhala signed in frustration. _What, is, his, name?_ she demanded.

Fiona sighed. "Sean," she came up with on the fly. "His name is Sean O'Connell."

_How did you meet him?_ Umhala asked a little happier now that she had a name and was getting what she wanted.

"An online chat room," Fiona said with a sly smile. Umhala believed her, _it's working!_ If she could keep this up, her sister would never have to know that she was falling head over heels for a Lord.

Umhala snorted. _Right, and I'm a giant purple dinosaur._

"Hi Barney," Fiona beamed in delight at her sister's set up.

Umhala snorted again as she shook her head. _Seriously, who is he?_

"Again with the _he_ness," Fiona moaned. "Couldn't I just have had an awesome night's sleep for once?"

_You're evading._ Umhala signed as she stood firm on her belief that a male was involved.

"Torin," Fiona sighed, giving in. There was no way around Umhala when she had a hunch. Sarah, she could evade easily. Umhala, though? No way. The fairy knew Fiona like the back of her hand, if not better. "His name is Torin." _Torin_ _Lord_, Fiona thought to herself and smiled as she pictured his tall broad frame with bright green eyes surrounded by long lush black lashes and his beautiful head of snow white hair.

_Why do I know that name?_ Umhala asked searching her memory for the information she sought. _You mean _the_ Torin, as in Under Lord Torin?_ She asked surprised as her hands fumbled over the right signs.

"Yes," Fiona nodded. "_That_ Torin." _And don't you dare say a damn thing about it_! Fiona yelled at her sister in her head.

_How did, when did, why did, _Umhala signed trying to form a coherent thought.

"Breath, Warp," Fiona teased at the distress her sister was feeling.

Umhala glared at her sister. _If Habetrot finds out, she's going to kill you. You know that right? So just stop. Stop, before she disowns you like Caillech did_.

"That's low," Fiona growled at her sister. "Especially from you."

_You know she would do it. I'm just warning you. Before you lose more of your family, think of what you are doing before you start playing with that fire._

"What do you call all this?" Fiona half shouted as she gestured to the looms. "This isn't playing with fire? If Habetrot learns we're doing this for _them,_ she will not only disown me, but you as well, since _this_ was _your_ ingenious idea."

_You could have talked me out of it._ Umhala said as if there was a way for that to have been done. Umhala had pushed the idea onto Fiona knowing that she would want to grant them with something as well. The spider silk was just the best thing they could think of to show their appreciation.

"Right, just as I could convince the sun to set in the east for just one night," Fiona laughed with sarcasm dripping from every word.

_Do not patronize me. _Umhala silently growled. _You should know better._

_Like you should have known better than to be abducted and allow them to impregnate you?_ Fiona wanted to throw in her sister's face. Instead of cutting her sister anymore, she stood from her bench and headed for the door. "I know I can't have him," Fiona growled over her shoulder. "He's just fun to talk to."

Umhala snapped her fingers trying to get Fiona's attention, but she ignored Umhala's summons as she headed for the kitchen.

The one thing in the world Fiona had found that she wanted more than her next breath, was denied to her. She knew that, she loathed it, but she knew it. Until she could figure out a way to have him, he was off limits. She could handle that, barely. But there would come a time when she would figure out which link was weakest and smash it into a thousand pieces. She had vowed it to herself that morning when she hung up with Torin. That little voice in her head might have been right, but until she could find out for herself…she didn't know.

_Why did she have to bring up Caillech_? Fiona fumed to herself. _It wasn't my fault she disowned me! It was mother and father's! If they had just left each other alone, and not had me, the world would have been fine. But no. They had to have a fricken mutant for a kid! Oh, look at me, I am the spitting image of Caillech, and she loves me best of all her lineage. But wait, the only skills of hers I have is the ability to cast and teleport, and poorly at that. Sorry Grandma, can't help out with the whole soul collecting thing. Every time I try, I wind up inside something. Like a rock cliff, a wall, or the ceiling and floors. I also don't feel compelled to lead the souls to Fólkvangr or Helheim. Oh, and did I mention that I have Habetrot's wing pattern? Yeah, sorry about that, but at least it explains a lot,_ Fiona thought to herself, every word dripping with sarcasm.

Fiona continued to fume as she entered the kitchen where everyone was seated around the large table, eating Sarah's homemade cheese burgers. Even though her stomach was yelling at her to eat, Fiona beelined it to the refrigerator. Opening the door, she grabbed six bottles of mead from their resting place. Yes, there were underaged kids in the house, but Fiona and Umhala didn't see the reasoning for that law. They had grown up in a time when children drank the liquid before they even learned how to walk. So, they made an agreement with the kids. As long as they didn't get plastered, they could have some. As soon as they got so plastered they had to be sent to the hospital, Fiona and Umhala had threatened to kill the child. That thereat was enough to keep them inline.

"Are you not eating?" Sarah asked form her seat at the head of the table after she swallowed her bite.

"No," Fiona said shaking her head. "I'm not hungry. It smells good though. Thanks," Fiona fake smiled as she continued out of the kitchen and headed toward her room.

"I'll put yours in the fridge then, so you can eat it later," Sarah called with a smile.

"Thanks," Fiona called back.

"_You are no kin of mine,"_ Caillech had said as she slapped Fiona across her face with so much loathing seeping through her words. It was the day Fiona's wings had finally come in. Like an actual butterfly, it took time for a fairy's wings to grow and become strong. But as soon as Caillech saw the pattern, she cursed her granddaughter's lineage and upbringing. _"You may look like me, but you are a Cinniúint Baineach,"_ the old goddess spat out as she turned on Fiona and walked away.

"_Grandmother!" _Fiona had shouted to her mentor and friend for the first three hundred years of her life. It was Caillech who had raised her after her mother's gruesome death. _"Grandmother, I'm sorry. It's not my fault! Please! Please don't cast me aside,"_ she had cried as she had run to Caillech. _"I'll do whatever it takes to become an Anam Treoir! I'll do whatever you wish of me. I'll be good. I'll be better than good. Just don't cast me aside. Please!"_

"_I will not be akin to a Baineach na Cinniúint,"_ Caillech said still moving away and not stopping to look back at her crying granddaughter or acknowledging her touch.

"_Grandmother, please,"_ Fiona had whined as she gave up and fell to the floor and cried to her heart's content.

"_I will inform Habetrot to come and get her new apprentice,"_ Caillech said as she slammed the oak door to her home, shutting Fiona out of not only her home, but her life as well.

Fiona had two of the glass bottles drained by the time she got to her room. Cursing Umhala for the unwanted memories, she went over to her music station and put her headphones on. Turning the stereo on, she blasted Bach as loud as she could and suckled the remaining four bottles.

_Stupid traditions,_ Fiona cursed. _Stupid Fae bull shit traditions._


	18. Chapter 18

Day gave way to night as the sun set over a horizon that was not visible over the tall honeysuckle bushes that were sweetening the summer breeze. Every few feet, an oil lamp was lighting of it's own accord making sure that the white cobble stone pathways stayed visible in the fading light. Torin closed his eyes and filled his lungs with the scent of the coming night's air.

"Tory," a familiar female voice softly and playfully called over the breeze.

Torin opened his eyes and saw a tall, lean, woman with black hair and silver eyes, dressed in a simple light blue chiton that was fastened at her shoulders with brooches of spiders wrapping their long legs around the fabric to keep it in place, standing a ways down the long corridor. Instantly, his body reacted to her smiling delicate features that were being framed in the light of the oil lamps and the honeysuckle bushes.

"Torin," Fiona called again as she beamed in pure delight at the sight of him.

"Fiona," Torin moaned at the sound of her name. Gods he loved how that one word sounded as it rolled off his tongue. "Come to me," he said as he opened his arms to receive her.

Fiona shook her head as she continued to stand so far away. "You have to catch me first," she smiled like the Cheshire cat. "Then, I'll think about it."

Torin dropped is arms as he readied himself to sprint for her. The moment his feet left their position, Fiona squeaked in delighted fear and started to run through the maze of honeysuckles laughing all the while.

Torin had seen his brothers playing this game with their mates, but could never quite understand why they loved it so much. Now, he understood as he slowed to take another corner. It was exhilarating to chase Fiona through the tricky labyrinth with the promise of holding onto her when he finally won.

Torin reached out to grasp at the linen fabric that shielded Fiona's beautiful body, when she laughed and moved to speed up. "You won't get me that easily," she laughed as the rounded another seamless corner.

Fiona busted through to the clearing first with Torin tight on her heals. She beelined it to a great oak tree that was in the middle of the labyrinth. Torin grinned as she hid behind the great tree's trunk. "I've got you now fairy," he said as he walked with slowed purpose to the ancient tree.

"You sure?" Fiona laughed as she peeked out to see him. "Tory?" she asked when he was not in her line of sight.

"Yes," Torin purred in delight as he moved in behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tight.

Fiona yelped just before she started to purr in delight at his embrace. Breathing hard, she leaned into his touch as she wrapped her arms around his gloved ones and leaned her head into the crook of his shoulder, mere centimeters from the collar of his shirt. Torin growled as he leaned down to inhale her scent without touching her.

"I want you," Torin confessed as he tried his hardest not to touch her cheek with his own. Gods, how he wanted to make her his own and no one else's.

Fiona sighed with a smile. "I won't stop you."

"Even if it means you will never be able to touch another, ever again?" Torin asked as he rubbed a thumb up and down Fiona's abdomen over the thin cloth.

"I'll live," Fiona moaned, grinding her ass up against Torin's groin.

What was a bonfire quickly turned into a raging inferno at the contact. "Are you sure?" Torin hissed as he tried to hold himself back from taking her without her consent and not knowing what she was getting herself into. "You'll never be able to hug your sister or hold your nephew, and you cannot go out in public without being completely covered," he told her, enjoying the idea of her wearing a burqa when she was away from him. No one should be able to look upon her but him, he thought to himself with glee and malice for any male who dared tried to see her.

"I," Fiona stated turning in his arms to look at him. "Don't, care," she moaned as she fully faced him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "If I had to choose between living without _you_ or the touch of another person. I would choose to live without the world."

Torin leaned his head down, his lips mere centimeters from hers. "Promise me, you won't regret your decision after this," he demanded looking into her silver eyes that reminded him of swirling mercury.

"I might," Fiona teased with a smile. "But never about you," she said as she leaned the rest of the way and fused her lips to his.

All that hard worked control that Torin was holding on to, shattered into thousands of shards. Not one piece held tight as the taste of honey enveloped him, branding it to his mouth, tongue, and brain. Wanting to feel more of her, he cupped her ass and lifted her up to him. A low moan escaped Fiona as Torin held her tight against him and leaned her up against the oak tree. With the fairy pinned, Torin took one of his hands and cupped Fiona's breasts that fit perfectly in his hand. Deepening the kiss, he pushed his hardened shaft up into her core as her fingers roamed through his hair.

"More," Torin growled as he played with Fiona's swollen and hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

"More," Fiona agreed with a smile as she took her hands back and unfastened her brooches, freeing her breasts from their confinement, and dropping them to the ground.

Torin gazed at Fiona's perfection. The soft white of her skin enveloping perfectly perked breasts and soft rose petals for nipples, enraptured him. Hating the loss of contact, he propped his leg at her core so he could kiss his way from her elegantly sloped ears to those rosy tipped breasts. She was like a cool glass of water and he had been walking through the desert his whole life.

"I want to feel you," Fiona moaned as she pulled at Torin's shirt. "The real you."

Releasing his new found treasure, he allowed Fiona to take his shield from him. After lifting his shirt over his head, Fiona captured his face and drew him to her lips again as she placed her fingers over the tops of his gloves and pulled them off. Torin growled at the rare sensation of air caressing his flesh.

Fiona pulled back and ate Torin up whole with her eyes. "Beautiful," she said as she traced his butterfly brand on his lower abdomen. "More," Fiona purred as she lowered her electric touch to the top of Torin's pants and held the button captive.

Torin nodded as he reached for the belt that was holding her gown in place. Both of them untied each other in unison as their tongues battled for ground in the other. He would never get enough of her sweet honey taste, he thought to himself as Fiona ran her hand up and down his stone shaft. Torin's body moved of it's own accord in time with her strokes as he kneaded her breasts.

"Stop," Torin growled as his body was about to explode. "Stop," he said again as Fiona pouted. "I want to be inside you," Torin insisted as he removed her gown from her.

Fiona moaned in delight as she held fast to him. Guiding him into her, Torin experienced heaven as her wet core expanded and contracted to accommodate his size. Torin roared in pleasure as he let his body take her over the edge. Only after she had experienced bliss did he allow himself to join her.

Weakened, Torin's knees gave way as he guided Fiona down the tree and to the cobble stones below, keeping them joined together as one.

"Wonderful," Fiona purred as she cuddled into the crook of Torin's neck as her arms serpentined around his shoulders while her hands played in his hair.

Torin laughed. "I'm glad, because you're my first," he said as he cradled her ass in his hands. Just like her breasts, it fit perfectly in his large hands.

"What?" Fiona shouted as she moved back to look at him. "Surely you jest?"

"No," Torin confessed as he shook his head and smiled.

"You're how old and still a virgin?" Fiona teased with a sly smile.

"Older than you," Torin said as he nipped at her lower lip that was in a constant pout. He knew it was form all the years she spent spinning and never once thinking to put water into a bowl.

"_Bad habit_," Fiona had told him as she shrugged the issue off to ask him another of her insane questions that always surprised him.

Fiona started to laugh. It was a hardy laugh that made Torin want to spend an eternity with the spirited fairy, but then blood started cutting into her air way, chocking her. Torin watched in horror as Fiona lips, chest, and hands were coated in crimson red as she coughed up more and more of the slick ruby stuff.

"Fiona," Torin panicked as all he could do was watch as she suffered. _It's all my fault,_ he cursed himself. "Fiona!" _Gods, not her._

"Worth, it," Fiona chocked out as her skin paled even further and her chocking slowed.

"Fiona!" Torin shouted as she smiled and sighed. "No!" he shouted again as he shook her limp body. "Fiona! Damn it, come back to me!"

"FIONA!" Torin roared as he shot up in his chair staring blankly at the tower of monitors on his desk.

It took him a moment to realize that he was in his room. The scent of honeysuckles was gone, the smell of blood was missing, and the taste of honey was no longer coating the inside of his mouth.

_It was just a dream_, he told himself to steady his rapidly palpating heart. Looking at the clock on the monitor, he noted that Scarlet should have been awake. So the nightmare was of his own, not Nightmares himself. How he hated himself for that fear. He knew she was immortal and that she would not suffer the same way mortals would have to Disease, but still, that little bit of doubt always crept in. It had been growing slowly and gradually. The first couple of nights after he first talked to Fiona, it was fine. He had stood his ground and not allowed her to touch him. Yet, his barrier had cracked, and now he was forced to watch as she died in his arms. And always, always she would smile and tell him he was worth it. _That_ was what cut out his heart and served it to him on a silver platter. For centuries, he had wanted what the others now had, someone who would love him and didn't care about his follies. But, as long as he and Disease were together, there was no way he would ever have that.

Torin ran a hand through his hair as he checked the monitors to make sure no one had gotten through. It was all clear on the home front. Sighing, he stood from his chair and headed to the bathroom to clean the night salts from his clothes and body. He still had a few hours before he could talk to _his_ fairy again.

_I could never harm Butterfly_, Disease spoke up as Torin turned the knob to the bathroom. _Butterfly_, the demon's pet name for Fiona. Why he kept calling her that, Disease wouldn't say. Every time Torin would ask, Disease would just purr, _My Butterfly._

_You can't help but infect Fiona,_ Torin told the demon.

Disease laughed wickedly. _Immune,_ was all he said, causing Torin to halt in his stride to the shower.

_What do you mean "immune?"_ Torin demanded to know.

My _Butterfly,_ the demon purred.

_She's immune to us?_ Torin asked, shocked by the news. He had already figured out what was happening to him. Why he would cast aside all good judgment to touch the fairy. Why she was all he could think of. Why the thought of another male touching her made him want to rip the man limb from limb. Watching the others go through the same thing, time and time again, it became obvious. It was the '_how_ to be with her,' that eluded him. But, if she was really immune to him and Disease, then he could touch her without worry. That was a delightful thought.

_Yes,_ Disease purred.

_Waite_, doubt chimed in. Not Sabin's Doubt, but his own. _How do you know she is immune to you?_

_She is _mine_,_ Disease growled. My_ Butterfly._

_

* * *

_

Okay, I have given you'll your fix. Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to go and make out with a very sexy elf that reminds me of our beloved Torin. Well, kinda. In looks, a little. Is it just me? Sometimes I think I am just talking to myself here. *Sighs.* I think you'll should go to Google, Yahoo, Bing, whatever search engine you use and type "Dragon Age 2 Fenris" into the bar and tell me what you think. Hell, you can even YouTube it. Lots of Fan Boys and Girls out there who love the elfness. So I know it's not just me. Oh, oh, oh. DeviantArt is defiantly one of my all time fav places to be. They got some killer work going on in there. (It's a website for artists by the way. They do have some LotU concept artwork for people to look at, if you're curious. Like I know you are. ;)


	19. Chapter 19

_**Please be advised that his chapter contains brief cruelty to animals**_. If that kind of thing is not up your alley, please disregard this chapter...though, you will miss some good bits. You have been warned. Oh, and the stew was awesome by the way. ^_^

AN: Sorry it took so long to get this posted. I've hit the wall. :*( I'm trying to work past it. I know where it's going and why…it just, doesn't want to get there. So, please don't kill me if it takes a bit to post chapter 20 and so on.

* * *

Fiona flashed herself to Caillech's home in the Otherworld's Crossroads. It had been a week since she and the others had started to finally work on the Lord's fabric. With the power loom making the material for the jeans while Fiona and Umhala made the rest of the cloth, time flew by quickly. So, as Umhala and Maggie prewashed the fabric so that it would not shrink on the Lords when they washed it, Fiona had a few errands she had to run. First, she went to Tomas' ranch and picked up two female rabbits; one black and one white. She also asked for a bag of smoked lamb jerky.

Being cautious of her cargo, Fiona took great care in not winding up inside anything as she flashed to her grandmother's. With her eyes clinched tight, she wiggled her toes and fingers. All moved freely, making her feel a little better. Slowly she opened her eyes and was greeted by the afternoon light that shone in through the high ice covered ceiling and the greens of the grass covered floor. One would think that the home of a winter goddess would be cold, but it was just the perfect temperature, even if you did start to feel a little claustrophobic with the huge stone walls and ceiling all around you. A few yards in front of Fiona was Caillech's simple round house home, with it's ever tall roof as smoke spewed from it. To the left, were the great oak doors that lead the way to Helheim, all decked out in intricate knot work and chained ever so loosely, so that only a few souls at a time could enter and leave. To the right of the house was the well of immortality that Caillech coveted. Opposite form Caillech's home was a smaller round house set up for the Hel Hounds.

_At least I didn't wind up behind those doors,_ Fiona congratulated herself as growls were heard all around her. They were the growls of Hel Hounds. Well, not hounds, wolves. Big, nasty wolves that were as tall as great danes and as intelligent as a five year old human child. Their leader was the largest of the group with black shaggy fur and bright red eyes. He lifted his head from his sleeping position by his master's door and growled as he got up and moved toward his new prey. They were the true immortal guardians of Helheim's doors, and they knew that anyone coming into their location was either going through the grand doors, or needed to be taught a lesson in staying away.

"Awww," Fiona cooed as she knelt down, placing the carrier with the two rabbits and her bag of treats on the ground. "Who's the pretty Dormarth? Do you remember your Aunt Fiona?" she asked the wolf in Goidelic. "I know you do, otherwise, why would I bring you a present?" she asked as she opened her bag of treats. "It's hand smoked lamb jerky," Fiona said as she waved a piece to the hound. "I know it's your favorite."

The old wolf instantly changed his attitude as he ran to Fiona and pounced on her chest. "Ahh," Fiona laughed as Dormarth and the other fifteen wolves joined in with licking her face and hands. "Get off, all of you," she tried to be forceful but she had missed them and was glad that they had remembered her.

"Cainte," a firm female voice ordered, causing all the wolves to stop and tuck their tails under their legs. "Come," the voice demanded in the old forgotten Goidelic tongue. Swiftly the hounds left Fiona and sprinted toward their master.

Sitting up on her elbows, Fiona looked to the beautiful Fae goddess who was wearing a white léine and a black crios tied around her waist. Contrary to popular belief, Caillech was a wonder to behold in the looks department. With her black hair cascaded down from her crown to almost touch the floor, her pail features almost resembling the snow she commanded, and her silver eyes that saw through the lands of the living and the dead. No one in their right mind would ever think her an old crone. Even though her wings were tucked inside her back, Fiona knew they were the colors of the blackest night with crimson splattering the basals of her top and bottom wings, as well as lining the lower edge of the hind wings. They were three heads taller than the woman and just barely touched the floor when fully extended. Fiona also knew that the wings expanse was twice Caillech's height. How Fiona had coveted their pattern over the centuries. But, instead of Caillech's beautiful pattern, she was forced to bare Habetrot's fragile looking, silver lined, glasswings.

"Hi," Fiona sheepishly smiled at her grandmother with a wave.

"Leave," Caillech said as she spun on her heals and headed back toward her home.

"Wait," Fiona called as she tried to stand up. "I have need of you Anam Treoir Caillech. Please hear me out. I bring you two rabbits for two simple questions." Caillech paused in her stride. "I would have brought you a deer, but I did not trust myself enough to make it here."

"And yet there you stand before me, whole and in one piece," Caillech mocked as she turned around.

"Would you rather have had venison?" Fiona asked tilting her head confused. Fiona's questions were small and simple. There was no need to sacrifice a whole deer. _Unless she really does want to be a bitch to me,_ Fiona thought with a sigh.

"No," Caillech said shaking her head and causing her long black hair to sway. "Rabbit will do fine for two, _small,_ questions. Bring them," she said as she turned back around and headed into her home.

Grabbing her goodies, Fiona followed Caillech to the door and placed her sack of jerky next to Dormarth. "There's enough for everyone," she informed the great wolf as she pet her old friend behind his ear.

Entering the ancient round house, Fiona was surprised to learn that nothing had changed. The walls were still bare except for lanterns illuminating the open area, the beds still lay at the back of the house, and the fire was still burning under a grand cauldron in the center. Caillech had never been one for material things, but it was queer for her to still have Fiona's old bed dressed and waiting for her to crawl inside and sleep.

"Bring them to me," Caillech said as she sat down on the floor by the fire to stir the cauldron's contents.

Nodding, Fiona moved to do as was asked of her. Placing the carrier by her grandmother, she moved to sit across the hearth. "You kept my bed," Fiona smiled at her grandmother. _Maybe she does miss me._

"Braeden comes from time to time," Caillech shrugged, still not looking upon Fiona, as she opened the carrier and took out the white hare. "I offer him a place to stay during his long hours."

_Maybe not,_ Fiona sighed to herself. _At least father visits and keeps her company._

"What is your first question," the goddess asked wanting to get their meeting over with as she reached for her belt knife.

"Habetrot taught me how to weave silks from the great spider. In Hell, there are five rivers, their only cure are the Waters of Life. Would enchanting the weave of the spider with it's owner's blood protect him or her from these rivers' waters?" Fiona asked as bland as she could.

Caillech, still with her hand gripping the hare's ears, took her belt knife and slit the rabbit's throat. Fiona waited patiently for a response as she watched the animal's blood seep onto the stone floor, but did not coat the léine her grandmother wore.

"No," Caillech finally said when all the blood was drained form the rabbit. "It will slow the process, but you will still need the Waters of Life to counteract the curse those rivers give."

_Great,_ Fiona moaned to herself. Waiting for her next question, she watched as her grandmother made quick work of gutting, skinning, and deboning the hare to place it into the pot.

"Let me guess, your next question is where to find the Waters of Life," Caillech said as she took the black hare from it's cage and readied her knife.

"No," Fiona said shaking her head. "I believe I have found my missing half," Fiona blushed as she thought of Torin. If her grandmother did not like the previous question, she was sure to like this one. Not only was Caillech the goddess of winter, or just a guardian to the gates of Helheim, but she also excelled in diseases. The woman could cast them upon mortals and immortals alike, as well as take them away. If she did not have the answer Fiona sought, no one would. Well, maybe another god form another pantheon would, but that would mean more research. "I wish to know how to protect myself from Hell's Demon Lord, Disease."

Caillech knife slipped, missing the hare entirely, as she snapped her head up to Fiona. "You have found him?" Caillech asked, staring at Fiona with so much loathing, compassion, and wonder in her eyes, it freaked Fiona out.

"I, did not know he was missing," Fiona said confused by her grandmother's sudden mood swing.

In all her life, Fiona had never seen so much emotion on her grandmother's face. She was more prone to sour mood swings than anyone had a right to be. But after living with the old Fae goddess for so long, Fiona found that Caillech was just depressed about her lot in life. While others were allowed to enjoy the land of men and the Fae, Caillech was bound to watch the gates until winter, whereupon Brighid took over watch until the spring.

"You are sure he is the _true_ Overlord Demon Disease?" Caillech asked clenching the hare's ears tighter.

"I believe him to be, yes," Fiona nodded as she watched the rabbit squirm and release a shrill cry.

"And you _believe_ him to be _your_ mate?" the goddess asked with loathing dripping from her words.

"His, cage, more or less," Fiona said as she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention while Caillech's wintery cold power washed over her.

"Cage?" Caillech asked, her grip tightening further on both the hare and her blade, her knuckles going white with the pressure.

Fiona nodded slowly. "Disease does seem to like me, but it is Torin I would rather possess," _or possess me, _she thought to herself.

"How did _my_ plague wind up inside this, Torin," Caillech demanded.

_Whow, wait, hold the horses. Huh?_ Fiona wondered. "_Your_ plague?" she asked tilting her head to the side. _That is what she said, right? _Her_ plague?_

"He is _mine_," the old goddess growled. "Now answer me."

"Oh-kay," Fiona said shaking her head. "Torin said that the demons got out of Hell and were imprisoned inside the dimOuniak, aka Pandora's box. Only it wasn't Pandora who opened it, Torin, along with his brothers and sister did, releasing the demons upon the world again. Zeus punished them by infusing them with the demons they released," Fiona recited to her grandmother what Torin had told her, still confused by her grandmother's weird mood swing. "Now why do you say he is _yours_?"

"I thought, he had forgotten me," Caillech sighed heavily as her death grip drastically loosened on the squirming hare and her power fell to the floor, causing small ice crystals to form.

_Um, really, really confused over here!_ Fiona wanted to say to her grandmother. "How could he have forgotten about you?" she asked instead.

"Long, long ago, I saw the Demon Lord Disease, roaming our lands," Caillech explained as she slit the rabbit's throat to add it to the stew. "I was surprised to have come across him at first, but found him to be irresistible. I knew I should have dragged him back to Hell, but I fell for him the moment he looked upon me with his bright red eyes," the goddess actually smiled. "At first, he came at me with malice, wanting to harm and destroy me. But, he soon discovered that I was immune to his infectious touch, and loved me like no other before, or since. He had vowed he would stay beside me as I slept. When I awoke, he had vanished. I stayed there in that spot all winter hopping I would see him again, but he never returned to me. I have searched for him every winter since, always returning to where I first found him. At first, I merely wished to bask in his glory, but after a thousand years, my heart turned black, and I wished to kill him for what he gave me," she sneered.

Fiona had wanted to ask what the demon had given her, but Caillech continued. "If you have truly found him, I would wish to see for myself. Bring him to me and I will grant you what you seek," Caillech said as she placed the skinned rabbit meat into the cauldron. "You have one week, no more. Now go," she said as she raised her hand and gestured toward the door with her knife.

"Um, Caillech," Fiona said, passing a hand through her hair. "I'm, still not that good at the whole, teleporting thing. What if I accidently get stuck, _again_?"

"You will bring him to me, or you will die trying," the old god growled as she glared at Fiona, promising to fulfill that threat if it was not meet.

"Kay," Fiona squeaked as she nodded quickly. Focusing her mind on her room, she flashed there as quickly as possible.


	20. Chapter 20

I found a crack! It's just a little one, but hay. It's better than nothing. ^_^

Sorry it took me so long to find this crack in the wall. Now all I need is a sledgehammer and I can turn these things out like never before. ^_^ But for now, please don't kill me for this small achievement.

* * *

_What did she say? _Umhala signed as Fiona walked into their office. The woman had been looking through one of their newer pattern books, leaning over the desk with one arm propping her head up as she idly flipped from one page to the next, her golden hair swaying from the force. When Fiona knocked on the door to get her attention, she beamed to life as she sat straighter in her chair.

"She said it will only _slow_ the process," Fiona told her sister as she made her way to her chair across from Umhala, but she did not sit. Instead, she just used it as a crutch for her tired body to hold on to. "Apparently, we need the Waters of Life to completely make them immune."

_Did you ask where they could be found?_

Fiona shook her head. "No I didn't," she said, trying to stifle a yawn.

_What's wrong?_ Umhala asked, tilting her head to the side as she examined Fiona.

"I just, need to regain some stamina," Fiona told her sister with a weak smile. "That trip took more out of me than it should've."

_If this was one of Jr's video games, I'd tell you to drink a potion,_ the pregnant fairy joked with a silent laugh.

"I wish it was that easy," Fiona chuckled as she gave in to a yawn. "How's the washing coming?"

_Almost done_, Umhala informed her younger sister, the light in her green eyes almost tangible with being so close to finishing. _Why don't you go to bed, and I'll wake you when we're ready to sew. The gods know you're going to need all your strength when we finally finish._

"Alright," Fiona nodded. "You sure you got it all under control?"

_I'm sure,_ the blond nodded. _Now go, before I make you,_ Umhala demanded.

"Fine," Fiona groaned as she leaned off her chair. "Don't let me sleep too long, 'kay?"

_I'll be sure to wake you for dinner,_ Umhala promised.

Fiona nodded as she headed for the door. "Oh," she remembered as she turned back around. "I love you sister," Fiona smiled as she spoke in Goidelic for the second time that day.

Shock colored the woman's face as she chocked on words to sign.

"It's okay," Fiona waved off her ramblings. "I just wanted you to know that," she smiled as she continued on her path to bed. But, before she could get too far, a very pregnant belly was at her back as Umhala hugged her tightly around her middle. Fiona smiled as she placed her hands over her sister's.

Umhala let go of Fiona and turned her around. _I love you too._

Fiona grinned to herself. How long had it been since they had actually spoken? A week, maybe? "I love you more," she teased as she tucked a strand of hair behind her sister's ear. A stray thought nudged at the back of her mind. _How does he do it?_ the little voice asked. _How can he live without touching those that he loves?_

_I_, Umhala signed, bringing Fiona out of her thoughts. _I shouldn't have said what I did, and I'm sorry. If Habetrot decides to disown you, then she disowns me as well. I will not see you alone in this world again._

Fiona could not help but to smile at her sister's devotion. "No," she said shaking her head. "You have to stay. Even if Damien is a half breed, he'll still need our clan to look after him."

_Damien,_ Umhala mouthed with a smile then rubbed her belly. _I like it,_ she nodded in agreement. _Just no jumping off the roof shouting "it's all for you Damien," during his birthday party, do you hear me?_ the woman scolded.

Fiona laughed. "I won't," she told her sister as she shook her head.

Umhala nodded. _There's an order I need to finish, and you need some sleep._ After the last sign passed, the pregnant fairy turned and went back into the office.

Fiona stood there and watched her sister as she gracefully sat in the chair and went back to work. With a smile on her lips, Fiona turned and headed for her room, but still the voice asked again, _How can he live without touching?_ She had to touch the world. She had to be able to hold a fiber in her hands, run her finger through it, even caress it just to make sure it was of decent quality. She had to hold fabrics in the palms of her hands so she could feel the texture. But most of all, she had to touch people. To give them small reassurances, like she had with Umhala. Umhala, she had held her in her arms for days, weeks even, when she returned from Hunter care. Could she live without ever touching her again? Fiona didn't know if she was strong enough for that. She didn't possess Torin's will power, and would probably have touched another long ago if she had been the one to be possessed by Disease. Hell, even now she wanted to touch what was denied her. She had planned on waiting until they finished working on the Lords clothes before she took him to see Caillech, but, could she wait that long? Her resolve had been weakening since she first heard that wonderful voice over the intercom system at the fortress. Then again every time he called. Gods she wanted to see him again.

A wicked thought came to her as she entered the house. With an evil grin on her lips, she headed for the kitchen and grabbed a white quartz bowel, one in a set of eight all ranging in colors form deep red to a stunning orchid, that they kept for ceremonies from the display cabinet, and a glass jug full of pure water, taken from the River of Knowledge itself. Supplies in hand, she continued to her bedroom.

After taking a quick shower, she sat on the floor of her room where the fading sun still cast it's light. She filled the bowl with the water and emptied her mind.

"Water of Knowledge and Stone of Time, I seek one who is far from me, a warrior both proud and strong. He goes by the name of Torin Lord and is the keeper of the High Demon Lord, Disease. Please, show him to me," Fiona recited the spell as she waved her hand over the bowl of water.

The water rippled of it's own accord and lifted out of the bowl in a thin line, only to reassemble into a large round mirror for her to see that which she asked, while a thin line of water stayed connected to the bowl. As the image came into view, it showed her the room she knew only to be Torin's. There was the desk with his numerous monitors, the leather chair, and his bed. She waited with barely contained excitement for Torin to appear. Only, he never did. The room remained empty.

"Mirror of water and stone, why do you not show him to me?" she asked. It had never done this before. The mirror had always shown her exactly as she had asked, why now of all times would it not listen to her? True it showed her where he normally was, but she wanted to see _him,_ not his surroundings.

A small speck of white light pulsed over the bed. It was then that she realized that the bed was indented, as if someone was sleeping in it. _Strange,_ Fiona thought. _If he is in the room, why can I not see him? Does he have to ability to remain unseen? Or is my mirror lacking?_

"Water and stone, show me another, one that is close. A pregnant fairy that resides in this house and goes by the name of Umhala McFey," she asked of the mirror to test if it was in fact the mirror or something else entirely.

The image of Torin's room swirled into a mesh of color before it righted itself to reveal Umhala still sitting at her desk. _Well, it's good to know she's still here. I wonder though,_ she thought to herself. "Mirror of water and stone, show me," she paused. _Who to pick,_ she asked herself. "Lucian Lord," she said picking another Lord at random. He was one of the few Lords that no longer scared the dickens out of her. Granted, the scars on his face alone should have, but he was the keeper of Death, one of the few things she knew about. "He is the keeper of the High Demon Lord, Death and mate to Anya, Greek goddess of Anarchy."

Again the colors swirled until they settled and reformed into a room she had never seen before. Laying on the bed was Anya, her hair sprawled this way and that over her body. But, like Torin's image, Lucian was nowhere to be seen. "Try, William, he is a friend of the Lords and Anya," she told the mirror and again it complied with swirling colors.

In another room she did not know, William laid upon his bed snuggling close to the human female she knew to be Gilly. _Why will it show me him, but not the others?_ "If you would be so kind, could you show me Sabin Lord? Keeper of Doubt and mate to a harpy known by the name of Gwen Skyhawk."

Again the mirror complied, and again, it did not show her who she asked for.

_Why can I not see them?_ she fumed to herself at not being able to see what she wanted. "Mirror," she asked with only a hint of her anger seeping through. "Do you know what it is that keeps them from your sights?"

Colors swirled together to reveal the answer to her. Instantly she knew what it was. She had spent the last week weaving the design numbers times over and over into every yard of fabric. But this one was not _her_ pattern, but another.

"Mirror of water and stone, is it their demons that keep them from you?" if that was true, she didn't know what she would do.

The butterfly swirled, and the word "No" appeared.

"So," Fiona asked, still confused. "It is not their demons that hide them from you, but something else?"

_Yes_ the mirror told her after it swirled the word "No" away.

"Do you know what it is?"

The word "Yes" stayed where it was, never shifting.

"Can you tell me what it is?"

_An amulet that hides that which must not be seen._ The mirror told her.

"What kind of amulet could do such a thing?" she had asked aloud to herself, but the mirror swirled with the answer.

_One crafted by the gods._

_Smartass,_ she scoffed at the mirror with a snort. Feeling defeated and even more drained than usual, she bowed her head to the water mirror. "Thank you for your assistance. I release you from the magic which holds you to this form. Return now to the state you were before."

The mirror swirled and shrank back into the quartz bowl in front of Fiona, just as it had appeared. When all the water was back in the bowl, she carefully returned it to the jug. With that done, she stretched out her legs and fell back on the floor as she absorbed the remaining rays of light before darkness consumed the land.

_I wonder if he would mind a visit?_ Fiona thought to herself just as she drifted off to sleep.


End file.
